The Ghost and The Darkness
by godofMYw0rld
Summary: 13 years after the events of Avatar, a host of new threats make their way to Pandora. A ghost from the stars stumbles upon the incredible world of the Na'vi, while the sky people plot their return and total domination over the land beneath the forest. - Rated M for later chapters may contain graphic depictions of brutal violence and extremely explicit inter-species relations
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Finally, this is my long awaited (only by me) Aliens/PredatorXAvatar crossover. Some of you may notice a few other fandom references, but these are purely cameos. This story is a Predator lover's fanfic without a doubt, and as the summary states, may contain some _literal_ Predator 'loving' in later chapters. This first chapter is relatively 'clean' except for a few choice words, but will be rated MA for safety. Please review and let me know what you think, even ideas on where to take the story are welcome and appreciated, but may be completely ignored =) just sayin'.

Am I allowed to put this in the Aliens/Predator category even though it's a crossover? Nobody seems to browse the crossovers much, and this story is aimed 100% towards the AvP fandom so I've moved it to here to get more exposure.

* * *

Black fire spread across all of Pandora, destroying everything she knew, everything she loved. The land, the forest, the people… the fire took them all.

From some high ground, somewhere to the east, she thought, Neytiri could see far across the land of the Omaticaya. Farther, she believed, than she had ever flown on the back of her Ikran.

A view that would have been so beautiful… but the fire…black as night, shining like water, as if it were some twisting, writhing obsidian glass.

Glass, in the shape of flames, ever changing.

Like no fire she had ever seen… even when the sky people had destroyed her home, so long ago. When the forest had burned, the trees burst, and the air itself turned to fire…even that could not have led her to imagine this new horror.

The black fire didn't so much _burn_, as it seemed to consume. It _fed_, off the life of the forest, spreading as if driven by some otherworldly hunger.

As the flames drew closer, curling black tendrils, reaching out for her, seeking every last drop of blood to fuel the darkness, she couldn't move an inch. She could feel only hopelessness; but it wasn't running that she wanted to do. There was nowhere to run, and without her home, her people… there was no life to live anyway. No it wasn't running she willed her body to do, all she wanted to do was scream, cry, to curse the fire or call out to the sky and the earth to ask Eywa why this was happening.

But she couldn't move a muscle. And there was nothing but despair…

But then there was a voice. Just barely a whisper, so quiet. But sounded, or felt, as if it came from just behind her ear…

"_Turn around_" the voice murmured,

And suddenly she could move. Slowly at first, she tried to spin her head, to turn and look for the source of this voice. For some reason she felt, she knew, that this voice was her only chance of saving her home. All hope had been lost until that whisper, those strangely familiar words, and now she knew she had to follow it.

"_Turn around_" it insisted again, more forcefully. Louder, inside her head this time…

As if her bonds loosened the more she moved, her muscles became strong again, and she spun on one foot, ready to run, or leap towards that voice. But her balance was still wrong. When she stopped it felt as though she had to stop the ground itself from moving beneath her, as well as her own body. She stumbled, fell to one knee with her hands on the ground in front of her, and then looked up.

Before her was the mouth of a cave. A long, wide crack in the earth, as if a single piece of rock had been broken apart and lifted up over the ground, leaving just a sliver of a doorway to the underworld. A fine mist surrounded the rock, and filled the clearing before her, and sunlight streamed through canopy, giving the thin black mouth before her a toothy smile of yellow sun and misty shadow. She listened intently, bowing her head forward, casting her eyes to the ground, as if seeing less would let her hear more. Neytiri's blue, spear-like ears twitched and turned, and she involuntarily stretched them outwards, each ear unfolding like the petals of a flower, so desperate to find that voice, that whisper that she knew she must answer, if she had any hope of saving her people, her family, and perhaps her whole world.

And then she heard it, the same voice but so faint now, it came from within the cave, behind the curtain of mist and sunlight, where only blackness could be seen…

"_Over here…_"

She hesitated, wary of the darkness, but this darkness before her was not as the darkness behind her. The black of the cave was natural, and real, the kind of darkness that should be expected in a cave. And so she stepped forward, one step, and then another, one foot at a time, feeling as though she had to learn to walk all over again. Everything felt abnormally real, the ground felt so cool and so good she almost didn't want to move her feet. Every sensation was new, and incredible. The dirt, the air, the sunlight, and the mist, all felt like part of her, like she willed each one to caress her skin just as she wanted.

And then, the cave swallowed her. She felt as though she hadn't moved more than a few feet, but without warning she was covered in darkness, the mouth of the cave was now nothing but a bright silver crack, far above and behind her.

For a few moments, there was nothing but darkness. Neytiri lifted her hands, to reach for something, the wall of the cave, anything to tell her where she was. Her hands touched frigid, wet stone, and her eyes adjusted to see the rippled brown and gray wall before her. It was smooth like river stones, and clearly grained in one direction, down and inward, as if torrents of water had once poured through the mouth of the cave in such quantity that it was filled to the ceiling. All she could do was walk down the wall of the cave, guiding herself along the carved lines of the now dead underground river.

After only a few steps, her hand slid over a small carving in the rock, and almost on cue, a dim light shone on the wall in front of her. The cave around her lit up, and she stepped back in awe at the wall of rock she could now see in its entirety. The light that illuminated the wall was the glow of an orange flame, dancing shadows over the shining wet rock, but when Neytiri turned around to look, she could see no source of the light. Though she was clearly not meant to see the fire itself, but rather what it showed her on the cave wall…

Carved into the rock, from as high as her hand could reach, to just below her waist, were six rows of text, each with two lines of distinctly different writing. The second of which appeared to be an ancient Omaticaya text that Neytiri could vaguely understand. The first line of each row was in writing she had never seen before, not entirely different in appearance to her own people's language, but none of the symbols were any she recognized. She brought her hand up the wall, slowly, to the first line, and traced each with her fingers until she had memorized all that she could read from the wall. From what Neytiri could understand of the ancient writing, it told of a prophecy. A prophecy of the coming of evil… There were parts she could not decipher, but the message was clear.

The stone read;

_When the forest is old, evil will come_

_Someone (Neytiri didn't know these words) will bring 'The Darkness', a threat to all Eywa_

_A great spirit will come to fight The Darkness_

The last three lines, Neytiri could not make out, except that it said more about the Darkness, this spirit, and that the people must seek his help.

She stumbled back, trying to make sense of it all.

The darkness… evil… the fire!

The black fire must be this darkness that the prophecy warned of.

But then how could she stop it? She wondered. Where was this "great spirit" while her home burned?

Panic and fear again set in, and Neytiri looked frantically for the light of the cave entrance. She had to do something, she had to find this spirit, had to stop the fire… but there was only darkness again. The light that showed her the wall was gone, and the silver crack of sunlight was nowhere to be seen.

Her heart raced, and her breath caught short. She scrambled for the wall, anything to hang on to, but her hands found nothing and she fell to the cold stone floor. Neytiri tried to call out, for the one person she needed now more than ever…

_Jake_, she thought…she tried to scream for him, but no sound escaped her lips.

_Please…_

Then, like _ice_ in her veins,

Like a poison arrow through her heart,

She felt it, as much as heard it… a long, low hiss, just inches behind her neck. It was terror like she had never felt. Cold, damp breath brushed across her skin, just before she was seized, by a vice-like grip, and dragged helplessly down into the black abyss of the cave.

When she tried to scream, instead pain filled her throat. Her chest burned in agony, as though the black fire had found her after all, and was consuming her from the inside out.

She clutched at her chest, as she slid further into the blackness, and tried to scream one last time…

She awoke like that, gasping for breath and clutching at the phantom pain beneath her breast. She sat up in her hammock, and it took her several moments before she realized where she was.

Alive, and home…

It had all been her latest dream of course, but to say "just" a dream gave her no peace. They had gotten worse recently, but none like this. None so real.

She looked beside herself and found Jake, sleeping so peacefully. She wiped tears from her eyes and blessed him, for being real, then cursed him for being asleep.

* * *

When Jake Sully awoke, rubbing his eyes wearily and stretching awkwardly in the hammock, he looked to his side to find Neytiri gone.

_Probably gone hunting early again_, he thought.

He was surprised she hadn't woken him. If it wasn't her, there was usually _someone _requiring his chiefly duties. A dispute over mushrooms, an argument about trees, hunters unhappy with how the meat was being divided…

Always a busy day for the Olo'eyktan…

For the past 13 years Jake had, with Neytiri's help, worked day after day to prove himself to his new people. Most still considered him a hero, and were proud to have him lead their tribe, but there were still those that doubted him, or outright despised him for what he once was. He made no effort to hide that he was once a "Dreamwalker" and came with the sky people. He often told stories about Earth, humans, and his life before. He hoped to educate the Na'vi, and to help them understand that not all "sky people" were evil. He tried to teach them that his people were not so different from the Na'vi, and that someday the humans might return. He insisted it was up to the Omaticaya to know forgiveness, and strive for peace if the sky people returned.

Despite his hopes for peace, however, he also knew well that if the humans did return, peace was unlikely. Jake knew that the only reason humans would come back to Pandora, was for the minerals. And there would be no compromise next time, he imagined. No, next time they would come and destroy anything that got in the way of their greed. The RDA, collectively, was no saint obviously, but the fact that they had even attempted peaceful relationships with the indigenous life painted them as one of the more forgiving human organizations. Jake knew full well of plenty of other corporations that would have not even considered negotiating with the Na'vi. If humans came back, it was not going to be intrigued biologists and diplomatic miners this time.

For the first several years, Jake had tirelessly obsessed over what he would do when his people from Earth returned. He lost count of how many speeches he had given the clan, trying to teach them about humans, and prepare for their eventual return. When six years had passed, and no ships came from the sky, a glimmer of hope ignited for Jake, that maybe the story of what happened to the RDA struck a chord with the people of Earth, and they deemed Pandora not worth the trouble.

But another side of him thought it more likely that they were instead preparing, gathering and building a larger force, to come and reap the lands of Pandora for all their worth, and quite possibly wipe out his people. He had lay awake countless nights fearing what they would do if the humans returned in force. How could they stop them a second time? He shuddered to think of it, and all this time did his best to put it out of his mind, and keep his people at ease. He told them that if the sky people tried to destroy their homes again, they would fight, and they would win just like before. But his words only served to reassure the people, not his own doubts.

Despite his ever present burdens, the past twelve years had been the happiest time of Jake Sully's life. His new body had not even begun to age, as he soon found out that his people had longevity far beyond humans. Two-hundred years was about the equivalent of a human living 100 years. And on top of that, time seemed to move so slowly here. Jake cherished it, living these past dozen years of his life more freely and happily than he could have imagined.

It truly was paradise.

Lately though, his worry had grown, as did the trouble within the tribe. There was a growing dissent, mostly among old traditionalists, and some young males who didn't like being told what to do by a "pretender" as they called him. For many years this group was harmless and mostly stagnant, but recently it had begun to grow, as did the tribe itself. After the attack on Hometree and the battle with the sky people, their population had shrunk considerably. But now, numbers were growing rapidly. Many new children of course, but also dozens of migrants from the nearby clans, who sought to return to their ancestral homelands in the jungles, where the Na'vi were born. These newcomers were often treated with more suspicion and distrust than even he was at first, but the more his tribe grew, the more he had to deal with questions of his loyalty, intentions, and right to lead. Had it not been for Neytiri, he may have lost the people's trust long ago. She was his saving grace, and his guardian angel, no one could questions _her_ loyalty or heritage. And so as the tribe grew, and the village with it, so did their responsibilities as Olo'eyktan and T'sahik.

The new village was not a single hometree as before, but three large trees in a small triangle, with many bridges on every level, both made from the tribe stringing vines and leaves together, and from long branches naturally intertwining. The people had chosen the spot, after only a short but unpleasant couple of weeks roaming through the forest, largely because of its location deep in the jungle, much farther from the RDA's abandoned mining quarry and the fallen hometree. Though more dangerous, with larger and more densely populated wildlife this far into the forest, Jake and his people felt it safer than staying near were the humans were likely to go.

The largest of the three trees grew at the base of a sharp cliff, atop which, a wide river poured gracefully over the side creating a picturesque waterfall as the source of the river that their village grew on the banks of. The highest branches of the tree in fact surpassed the cliff, hanging far out over the top of the plateau only a few meters from the ground, giving the people an easy route to the high ground.

As Jake climbed down from his hammock, high in the hollowed out trunk of the tallest tree, stepping down onto the solid wooden floor of the carved out inlet that he and Neytiri had made their home, he clumsily wobbled a bit, looking out the opening to make sure no one had seen him. Were his balance and reflexes getting soft, he wondered? Maybe he should go hunting, or go free running through the forest… god it had been too long since they had just ran through the forest, jumping and swinging from tree to tree like they had so often before he was chief. Partly because he was hungry, and partly to prove to himself that his reflexes were still somewhat sharp, he snatched a tasty little grub off the wall before it scurried into a hole in the trunk, and quickly crunched it up in his teeth before swallowing it. He had gotten used to eating the little buggers, sure, but he still didn't like having them alive in his mouth for too long.

A little more awake now, he hopped vigorously, trying to work a little more exercise into his daily life (and looking like a fool in the process), over to a bowl of vibrant berries left sitting in a carved out shelf. Once again peeking over his shoulder to see if anyone was outside his room, he began popping the little fruits into his mouth two at a time, happily 'mmming' and 'ooing' with tasty delight as his cheeks became full faster than his mouth could swallow.

_Delicious_! He thought, now fully distracted by his morning feast.

_They are a bit soft, probably from yesterday… I should probably eat them all or they'll go bad_, he justified to himself, and picked up the bowl as well as his munching.

He turned around with a fistful of berries just inches from his anything but empty mouth, looking up just in time to see the narrowed eyes and scolding look of his wife.

"Like a _child_" she said with a huff, repeating her ever-favorite remark since that first night she found him in the jungle, waving fire around like some sort of… well, child.

Jake straightened up, staring at her with wide eyes of guilty innocence, with blue and red droplets squeezing out the edges of his lips, while he tried to swallow what was quickly becoming wildberry juice in his mouth.

Despite her mood that morning, and the dread that had filled her for weeks, the sight of him forced a wide smile onto her face, and in moments she simply couldn't help from laughing aloud.

Jake finally managed to speak, with a mouth still half-full of berries, as he set the bowl down and wiped the corners of his mouth with a rag.

"I miffed mu mis morning" he grinned blue teeth that matched his Na'vi skin and swallowed the last of his breakfast. "Where did you go so early?"

Neytiri's joy faded as she sat wearily down on a log that lay along the edge of their room, and her mind went back to her dreams, namely the one that woke her this morning.

"Jake… I…" she looked up at him with more somber eyes, and he immediately saw her distress. He quickly wiped away the last of his foolish berry breakfast, and strode the length of the room to sit beside her and take her body in his arms.

"The dreams again?" He asked, pulling her close to him, usually so strong, stronger than him in fact, he felt her shaking so slightly this morning, and knew something was wrong.

"Neytiri, they're just…"

"No!" She cut him off, pushing him away and standing up. "No this time was different…" The tone of her voice conveyed to him just how unsettled she really was about this. It was all he could do to just look at her, wishing he knew what to say.

"This time I saw… things. I was _there_. It was so _real_…" she insisted frantically. "It was a warning Jake…" she paused, glancing at him, making no effort to hide the tears welling in her eyes, "Something is coming Jake.

He didn't want to ask 'what', for he knew the answer. Humans. He had felt this feeling of foreboding lately as well, and so he trusted his wife's dreams were more than just nightmares. She was closer to Eywa than anyone he knew, and if there's one thing he learned it was that the spiritual energy of this place was very real, and very much alive.

"There was a cave, words carved in stone, _ancient_ words of the people… that is where I must go; I _must_ go find it Jake…"

"Woa hey, slow down." He jumped to his feet and took her hands in his. "Go? Where? You can't leave me." he begged rather than demanded, for he learned long ago that making demands of his wife was a futile effort.

"I must Jake. I saw a cave, in my dream… that's where I went this morning, to the highest branches to see where it could be. I believe it's… in the mountains, far to the north of the deep forest." She cast her eyes up at him with a pleading look, asking him to understand why she had to go.

"Neytiri, the mountains? Do you know how far… days, a week or more in one direction…" He squeezed her fingers tight, while his mind tried to invent something that would convince her not to go, but he knew in his heart already that there was no stopping her. He saw it in her eyes.

"_I_ was born here, _I_ know how far. _You_ do not tell _me_…" she said rather harshly, and her words stung him, reminding him that no matter how long he lived here, he will have always come from another world.

She felt bad immediately, her eyes softening and her lips parting in sad regret.

"I am sorry Jake" she went back to him and pulled his arms around her waist, "but I _must_ go."

Jake held her and pulled her head against his shoulder with his hand on her hair. He smelled the scent of flowers and the sweet fruits she loved so much, and the thought of her leaving even for just a few days, reminded him that he didn't often enough take the time to really appreciate her.

"What I would do without you…" he whispered and pulled her even closer, and she didn't resist. If she could, she would never leave his side. But she knew this was something she had to do.

Jake stepped back and looked into her eyes with as much understanding as he could. He wished he could go with her, but he knew better. For both of the clan leaders to simply trek off into the forest on the whim of a dream… the people would be outraged. And most of all, they couldn't both leave their daughter.

"When are you leaving?" Jake asked, "I'll go find Yan'ey and tell him to prepare three of his best hunters to leave with you." He began rummaging around through their things, babbling on about safety and preparations, and how long did she expect to be gone.

"You'll need food, of course… and warmer clothes, it _must _get colder in mountains at night..."

"Jake…" Neytiri softly tried to interject, slinging the small pack she had already prepared that morning over her shoulder.

"Maybe five hunters, instead of three…" He continued, "To carry a tent, and more supplies, and…"

"_Jake_," she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, "no hunters Jake, I must go alone."

"Alone? Neytiri…"

"_Don't_… argue Jake, this is something the Tsahìk must do alone." She insisted, leaving no room for debate. "And if it _is_ dangerous, I would not have any others of the clan hurt, following me after some dream." Neytiri made her point clear, and there was nothing he was going to say or do, save from tying her to the hometree, to stop her from going alone.

"Now…" she continued, securing her pack and picking up one of the ripened purple fruits next to the now nearly empty berry bowl, "where is Niyani? I have to say goodbye to our daughter before I go." She smiled and Jake tried his best to follow suit, managing a sad smirk.

"She must be with the other children, probably swimming in the river again", he mused, the thought of their 11 year old, little blue flower allowing a true smile to light his face. "Come on, let's go down and find her." He strapped on his clothes, if you could call the Na'vi garments that, pushed his spear through the curtain of vines that covered the opening to their room, pulled them to the side and let his wife step through. With a look out into the center of the tree, seeing his wife distracted, he hastily grabbed one last berry from the bowl and quickly stuffed it in his mouth before she saw…

_Oh hell, _he thought, and scooped all the rest out, squeezing them into his cheeks before leaping off the ledge in front of their room, into the thick, elastic ladder of vines that grew up the center of the hollowed tree trunk.

Neytiri was the one able to truly smile now, before she jumped after him with leather pack and bow strapped around her.

Her Jake… _like a child_, she thought again.

* * *

With a blinding, silent flash, the dark metallic bulk of a Yautja clanship materialized in orbit over an unnamed world. Though a tiny, insignificant speck of iron dust to the cosmos, to anything with eyes and a brain the vessel was a massive piece of unrivaled engineering. Moments after appearing, the great clanship initiated its full spectrum cloaking abilities, rendering it invisible and silent as it began to dive down into the thick clouds and swirling green atmosphere of the nearby planetoid. For its size, the enormous vessel made impressive time, sinking below the thick layer of obscuring stratosphere and making a steady heading over the terrain, only miles from the rocky surface littered with bubbling green ponds and lakes of alien primordial stew.

After only a short flight over this world's ranges, valleys, and young impact craters, the clanship approached the terminus of its flight. Its destination, settled in the center of a massive crater, was the effective homeworld of the race known across the galaxy by so many as "The Hunters".

Aptly named the "Ark", this gargantuan structure was the main hub, the mobile homeworld, of the Yautja. More than just a ship, it flew from system to system, able to land anywhere or remain in orbit, and supplied the dry-dock ports for the thirteen major clan's ships, on its thirteen arms, extending from the central core like gold and cobalt spokes of some heavenly wheel. The Ark was the crown jewel of the Yautja race, serving as both their nomadic homeworld and the staple of their dominance in the galaxy. Its offensive capabilities were more than formidable, yet its real strength was in its versatility. If the Yautja ever did encounter a race they could not defeat in open combat (which they had yet do to), they could hide their entire civilization behind a cloak not too dissimilar from the ones each hunter wore himself. Better yet, the Ark could pick up and leave, finding a new planet to land upon, or even drift aimlessly in the void, where there was little to no hope of ever finding it without knowing the signal to look for.

The Yautja were by no means the only race to inhabit the great city, just its builders (or so it was believed) and it's keepers. The hunters had long ago enslaved, or perhaps merely employed, a squat but versatile race they called the "Grunts". The Grunts were the hunter's workers, ever present but hardly noticed, maintaining and repairing the Ark and many of their larger ships. Grunts never spoke, in any language anyone else could understand at least, whether they could not or chose not to was a mystery. They simply and, apparently happily, went about their business doing the bidding of the Yautja, seemingly coming from nowhere, being everywhere, yet never getting in anyone's way.

At any given time, there were also a variety of different intelligent species on the Ark. The Yautja were not entirely ignorant to the idea of diplomacy and often had various agreements and relationships with some of the other intelligent races of the galaxy. The Ark, though mobile, was an active trade hub among the few species that were considered advanced and honorable enough to interact with the hunters in any other way than being prey. The city often served as neutral ground for diplomatic meetings and negotiations between other races, as everyone knew that the Yautja were not to be crossed, and equally as honorable as they were fierce. If the hunters gave their word that they would remain neutral, so it would be.

For countless millennia the Yautja had been the galaxy's most renowned spacefaring warlords. They traveled the stars in search of the next great challenge, the fiercest warriors or the most elusive prey. To many primitive sentient species, they were seen as gods, not unlike most alien visitors. Often times they were the bringers of language, technology, and culture to otherwise paleolithic species, including the humans of earth.

The Yautja, however, were even treated as gods by advanced races, capable of comprehending what they truly were. When the Yautja came upon a race advanced enough to detect them, or if they chose to reveal themselves, they came as conquerors and lords of the hunt. Planets learned to welcome them, worship them, and offer their greatest warriors or most valuable resources, in exchange for a relatively civil relationship with the clans that came seeking trophies. The Yautja's technology was unrivaled, but even when a species did develop something new and powerful, it was quickly taken by the Yautja so that few races dare to challenge their superiority.

Though powerful, the Yautja were few in numbers. Their power came from their technology, and their prowess in battle. Their entire population didn't exceed a few hundred thousand, as they reproduced only by choice and by purpose. They also lived for unnaturally extended periods of time. Aided by their technology, most of which they must have found or stolen, they truly took on the persona of the sky gods they claimed to be. A natural lifespan for a Yautja would be in the hundreds of years, but by utilizing genetic perfection and advanced rejuvenation, they would keep themselves alive for thousands upon thousands of years, the richest and most powerful able to do this the longest.

This made for nearly undying bloodlines and ancient traditions. The "First Five", the oldest and most powerful of the 13 clans, had existed for longer than anyone knew, except perhaps the Ancients, a council of 5 elders that lived in secret on the _true_ Yautja homeworld, a secret kept hidden to all except the high elder of each clan. These Ancients preserved and ruled over a primitive clan of still tribal Yautja on the Planet of Origin, in case disaster should befall the Ark and the 13 clans. The Five were considered the noblest of clans, a type of royalty, though this was mostly a proliferation by the Five themselves, as even the lowliest of clans were unlikely to give royal treatment to members of the Five, except perhaps elders.

As the ship of the Nak'te Da'dto (Stone Knife) clan, one of the First Five, slowed and began its final approach to the Ark, the Young Legend T'savo stirred awake on his bed of rough furs and leather hides. Shaking his head groggily and sitting up quickly, the young hunter sat for a few still moments with his head between his knees, flexing his mandibles and breathing deep after the long sleep he had taken for the trip to the homeworld. His shoulder length dreadlocks hung in front of his face, gold and platinum rings clacking together as they swung. As he stood, he stretched his arms and legs out slowly, flexing the tired muscles, and savoring the hot pain of the soreness from his recent hunts. God how he loved that feeling of his muscles stretching out after the utmost exertion. He was never the tallest, though taller than most, nor the strongest. He took after his bloodline, tall and lean, with muscle hard as rocks, cut to perfection by years of training and constant vigilance, except today of course. On any other day he would have jumped down onto the floor and did as many push-ups as he could manage, then proceed to jump up to grab the handles on the ceiling and do an equal number of pull-ups… but not today. Today he would relish in the relaxation of returning to the homeworld.

He wouldn't, however, be able to relax the whole time, he remembered. He had it on good authority that shortly after their arrival, he would be summoned before the Elder Council to discuss what he had done not 6 moons ago… the very same incident that had earned him the nickname T'savo. An appropriate title, after all, the word t'savo means slaughter, in his people's language.

What would the old bastards have to say about that, he wondered as he stood up and crossed his quarters to the sink and splashed lukewarm water on his face, then cupped his clawed hands and gulped more down, tilting his head back and stretching his mandibles out wide, growling with contentment. He reached beside the sink to the food storage unit in the wall, and opened it to find nothing but dried, seasoned meat… his favorite! He snatched two strips of the shriveled, blackened stuff, and shredded it quickly with his inner teeth, swallowing it a bit too hastily, he thought.

He then sauntered lazily over to his armor case, opening it with a swipe of his hand and punching on the info screen beside it. The screen came to life, displaying the time and the clan reports, which just so happened to state that they were only minutes from the Ark, and all clan members were required to present in the embarkation room to march into the city upon arrival.

"Hmmpf, fuck the city." He growled to himself, reaching into the case and strapping on each piece of armor with practiced precision. His armor was new, yet littered with scratches, burns, and more than a few cracks. Perhaps a few repairs were in order, he thought, as he strapped on his shoulder guards, following his half chest-plate, and then bending down to secure his greaves. He snapped on his wrist gauntlets last, their perfectly fitting machinery adhering to his flesh as if they became part of him. He powered on his armor and tested it briefly, then picked up his most prized possession, his mask, and clipped it to his belt. Lastly, a step he normally would have skipped, he pulled out the floor-length black cape from the back of the case and swung it around his shoulders, securing it with the gold chain in front.

"Fucking formalities…" he complained to no one in particular, his mood this morning was certainly not cheery. For some reason the elders felt like forcing the entire clan to wear full ceremonial dress armor upon arrival to the city. It's not as if any of the other clans would be waiting outside the ship, to watch the Stone Knife clan parade down the branch to the Citadel, yet it was apparently necessary to put on a show today. The elders probably aimed to create attention for the clan, with news of their recent destruction of several hard meat hives, including the skulls of two of their queens, now adorning the clan's trophy room.

One day, he thought, a queen's head will hang on my wall. There were few other trophies as impressive as the hard meat queen. Glory, and countless females, were assured to any hunter who could singularly fell one of the black, crested beasts. A rare occurrence no doubt.

Before exiting his quarters, T'savo stopped in front of his most recent trophy, admiring it for a moment, and recalling the battle which won him this particular prize. While his brothers were underground slaughtering the endless flow of the black bugs, he had decided to seek his own quarry, above ground in the rocky but vegetated landscape of that last world.

He came upon the brutish, ogre-like creature in a wide clearing, tearing trees out of the ground to munch on their roots. Despite its choice of food, the beast was clearly anything but weak. It's head, twice the size of his own, had a jaw that looked capable of swallowing a Yautja whole, and its build was truly impressive. The troll, has he dubbed it, was nearly twice his height and most likely five times his weight or more. He remembered thinking to himself that it was truly a worthy opponent, but the thing was so distracted by its vegetarian lunch that it had not noticed the silent hunter moving slowly closer behind it. With a smirk behind his mask, he decided to have a little fun, charging his plasma caster to near its lowest setting, and sending a small bolt of the stuff into the creatures burly hind quarters, just enough to burn it and sufficiently send it into a rage. His plan no doubt worked, and the troll roared in primal anger as it turned to look for its aggressor.

The young legend they were now calling T'savo, made no attempt to hide, but uncloaked and faced his foe, lowering himself into a ready stance, and grabbing the spear off his back. The beast charged immediately, not bothering or seeming to initiate any kind of intimidation ritual like many creatures, and the hunter waited…Moments before the charging behemoth smashed into him, he leapt high into the air, meters above the monster's head. Extending his spear during his ascent, he twisted his body in mid-air and looked down at the back of the beast, which had only just barely begun to register that its target had disappeared. With one powerful downward swing, he hurled his spear straight down into the troll's thick head, then smashed into the ground in a three-point stance a few meters from the howling creature. Blood poured from the brute's wound, and it thrashed and stumbled wildly, clearly already dying from the blow. He watched quietly, and as the creature's swings slowed and it turned to face him, he launched himself at the beast's front and leapt once more, straight into its drooling face. He snapped out his wrist blades just before he grasped onto the troll's hide with his left hand, feet digging into its chest, and thrust the ornate twin blades under its chin, through the beast's neck, toppling it backwards as he glared down into its dying eyes through his mask's optics. He soon found that severing the troll's head and cleaning the skull proved a much more difficult task than killing the beast itself.

A fight he would not soon forget, he thought, tracing the empty eye sockets of its now polished and pristine skull. Over too soon, but invigorating nonetheless.

With his reminiscing through, he punched the control to his door and stepped out into the hall, which bustled with clan brothers making their way to the embarkation room.

"Kal'ak! My brother, you know I've been waiting here so long I feared Centanu would come before you did."

Kal'ak turned to find Ma'koh leaning against the wall beside his door. Ma'koh was his best friend and one of the only other Yautja whose company he enjoyed. Sometimes.

"_Don't_ call me that." Kal'ak growled at his friend curtly, as they began to walk side-by-side down the hall towards the rest of the clan.

"Is that not your name? What shall I call you, T'saaaaavo?" His friend teased mercilessly. "The great T'savo, the legend! Slain a thousand bad bloods and killed the gods themselves!"

Ma'koh never rested until his friend was thoroughly infuriated. All in good fun of course, had it been anyone else making such comments, Kal'ak would have made to take his head from his shoulders.

"Fuck you", was his only response, and his brother chortled with clicking laughter.

The pair quickly reached the port side embarkation room and observation deck, where most of the clan was gathered. Brothers stood in packs, comparing trophies, sharing tales of battle, and some sparring hand to hand. Kal'ak and Ma'koh stood shoulder to shoulder, staring silently out the window at the colossus that was the Ark, growing larger quickly as the ship moved ever closer.

"Grrrmmpff", a low grunt for a greeting was all they heard, and the two both turned their heads in unison to find the giant oaf that had somehow silently joined them. N'okk was quite possibly the biggest hunter in the clan, or close to it, and the _other_ Yautja whose company Kal'ak didn't mind. Mostly because he said next to nothing, and also because he was a fearsome sight and valuable ally to have in fight.

Now it was Kal'ak's turn to harass, and he casually looked back out the window whilst speaking in a matter-of-fact tone to his large friend.

"You know, I was just admiring the head of that troll thing I killed last hunt, while you two were in the tunnels playing 'shooting gallery'. For a moment there I was worried I had taken _your_ head as a trophy N'okk."

"Hmmm," N'okk grumbled and thought for a moment, "try that fancy jumping shit with _me_ little man."

The other two snickered with laughter and Ma'koh made to push the big lug sideways, but he only succeeded in pushing himself into Kal'ak instead. Moments later, several of the clan leaders strode into the room with the elders following close behind. The high elder followed last, and the entire room spun to face him and beat their chest in salute. A short speech was typical of their highest ranking elder, and today he didn't disappoint.

"Brothers… we enter the great city." The old fossil began, "You represent your clan, the greatest of all Yautja. While we are here, if you must fight, do not lose. If you must lose, die."

There were several growls of approval and nodding of heads. Ma'koh leaned over towards his companions and hissed out a response to the elder's blunt instructions.

"We shouldn't have a problem with that should we brothers?" It was almost impossible for Ma'koh to _not _have some quip or remark about anything an elder or official said. Whether he meant dying or not losing, Kal'ak was unsure.

"Now…" the high elder continued, "prepare to march!" And with that, the entire clan began to form in rows of three, ready to follow their leaders out the gates onto the great city.

The massive ship slowly landed and docked securely with the arm of the great city that was designated for the Stone Knife clan, the back of the ship connecting with the central core of the citadel. Outside the ship, the causeway was busy with traffic, Grunts moving silently from here to there, and countless Yautja of various clans and factions going about their business on the top deck of the Ark. Several had gathered outside the ship to watch the clan arrive, and moments after the vessel was secure, the hatch doors slid open and the boarding ramp extended out to the causeway. The elders and clan leaders were first to step into the great city, and the many that saw them arrive gave salutes to the returning warriors. One by one, each trio of hunters filed out of the ship and onto their man-made homeworld, some glad to be home, others disappointed that adventures were over.

Kal'ak, Ma'koh, and N'okk stepped out into the bright red sun towards the end of the long line of brothers, and obediently marched down the causeway in ceremonial fashion, representing their clan and their race.

_Maybe the cape isn't so bad_, Kal'ak thought to himself.

He noticed several females and more than a few unblooded younglings recognize him as the young legend, a title he wasn't entirely thrilled about, but didn't overtly despise either. Some of them sent him informal salutes and triumphant fists in the air as he walked by. While Kal'ak barely nodded in response, his ridiculous jester of a friend Ma'koh waved and strutted as if the attention was for him.

_Paya, by the time we leave here, half the city will think that fool is me, _Kal'ak mused silently.

After a few minutes the elders at the head of the clan were at the citadel gates. They didn't so much as turn around to acknowledge the clan, as the gates opened and the elders strode in past the heavily armed and armored citadel guards, who impassively formed a wall behind the elders as the gates slowly shut.

With that, the clan dispersed, flowing randomly off to different parts of the city, many disappearing below the upper deck to lower levels of the Ark. Kal'ak and his companions walked up to the citadel gates and partook in a mildly amusing yet fruitless staring contest with the citadel guards. Their uniform masks gave no hint of any emotion, and Kal'ak suspected their faces underneath were no different.

The citadel guard, an elite charge no doubt, was something Kal'ak would never consider even if he were large enough to qualify, which he wasn't. Lord, he would become a bad blood before he allowed himself to be confined to this city for the rest of time. Looking from N'okk to the guards, some of whom were just as large, Kal'ak thought it would not be surprising if his giant friend ended up as one of them someday. It certainly was a prestigious position, however boring it may be, and it was well known that guards were provided with as many females, slaves, and luxuries as they wished, second only to the elders.

"So…" Ma'koh said, finally breaking the silence, "do you think after the elders sentence you to death in the pit of endless hard-meats, they'll let me have your stuff?"

Kal'ak just glanced sideways at his wisecracking friend with a look of indignation, but it was N'okk who unexpectedly spoke up.

"The elders will honor you T'savo, not punish, for what you have done."

The two looked at him, surprised he would even bother to waste his breath on a conversation not about himself, fighting, killing, or crushing skulls.

"Hmm, honor…" Ma'koh thought for a moment, "perhaps. You may have disobeyed the clan, but you certainly did a good job." Ma'koh finished, sounding serious for once in his life, but then added, "for a child-bearer that is."

_Well there goes that…_ Kal'ak thought, not surprised at all.

"How long do you think before the elders summon your fucked hide?" Ma'koh asked, whilst stepping up to the nearest citadel guard and seeing how close he could inch the tip of his pointed finger to the motionless sentry's mask before being cut in half.

"Not long." Kal'ak predicted, folding his arms and leaning against a nearby pedestal. "I plan on waiting right here until they do."

Ma'koh jumped back from the guard in haste, having sworn the still giant had twitched, preparing to draw his spear. Kal'ak suspected that if a guard wanted to draw their blade, his friend would have been jumping away in pieces.

"Well, well, if it isn't the _legend _of the Stone Knife clan" came a voice from behind them. Kal'ak turned to see 5 of his clan mates striding up to the three of them in front of the gates, lead of course, by Mit'su'ka. N'okk had been staring right at them as they approached, but of course said nothing.

"I would have thought such a _legendary_ warrior as yourself wouldn't need bodyguards to hold his hand through the citadel gates. I hope the elders confine you to the homeworld for the next hunt, or three." Mit'ka, as the clan called him, drawled on.

Kal'ak just stared, walking slowly to the side of his giant friend, and stepping forward to face his rival. Mit'ka and his group were only a moon or two older than Kal'ak and Ma'koh, and had always resented them for their skill and rising respect within the clan.

"I guess you didn't pay attention in suckling classes when learning to _count_, Su'ka", Ma'koh taunted. "Theres 3 of us and 5 of you… who's the one with bodyguards hm?"

Mit'ka scowled and angrily shot out his wrist blades out at the mockery of his name. "I wasn't talking to you, _fool_," he growled, then pointed at Kal'ak who still stood, arms crossed and silent, in front of his somehow even more silent beast of a companion. "I came for _him_" spat Mit'ka, glaring and locking eyes with Kal. "Why don't you show us what a legend can do, or are you a coward?"

It wasn't a formal challenge, per se, so no real response was necessary, but it certainly was an attempt at goading Kal'ak into making one. The citadel guards behind them stood ever still, having no business intervening in clan disputes and challenges among hunters, even if blood was spilled right outside the gates.

Kal'ak only snorted at his poor attempt at instigating a fight, and looked down at his wrist computer casually, tapping a button to display the time, before folding his arms across his chest again and staring down his opponent.

"Well I'm sorry but if you came for him" Ma'koh gestured to his friend, "you'll be thoroughly disappointed. I know well that T'savo prefers the females, but I hear there's plenty of man lovers in the broken spear clan, maybe you should join them."

Even N'okk smirked at this comment, and a few of Mit'ka's posse looked wide eyed at their leader, curious what he might do after an insult like that. Kal grinned as he saw one of the thugs stifle a laugh as well.

Mit'su'ka flared his mandibles in rage and Kal'ak was thoroughly surprised he didn't fire off a plasma bolt at Ma'koh right then, which he surely would have dodged, the fast little shit.

"Paya! When I'm through with your friend I'll have _your_ head as well _fool_!" Mit'ka roared, taking several steps forward and dropping into a fighting stance. "What is this? You always have your _mate_ do all of your talking for you, Kal'ak de 'ikai?"

Mit'ka had finally struck the right nerve using his full name, the name his brother gave him, in such a way. Without a word Kal'ak snapped out both his dual wrist blades, and the longer, single blade on his left and made to charge at his provoker. It took a moment before his friends realized he was on the attack. Ma'koh scurried in front of him, putting his arms out and grabbing ahold of his shoulders, while N'okk simply stuck out a trunk of an arm in front of Kal's chest, holding him back.

"Thaaaat's right coward! Have your friends save your head as well as your honor!" Mit'ka sneered, urging him on.

_The fucking cunt! I'll kill him_, thought Kal'ak, growling against his friends restraint. If his mask had been on, he would have sent a bolt straight through that mother-fucker's face. Fuck a fair fight, that bastard didn't deserve an honorable death. Just as Kal was considering slicing through his two best friends, the bellowing voice of a citadel guard roared out behind them.

"YAUTJA, CREE!"

Both parties stopped, and separated to turn and watch the gates slowly open. One guard in the line stepped forward and called out through his mask.

"Kal'ak de 'ikai, you are summoned by the high council." The guards then parted and made way for entry into the citadel, staring at Kal'ak through their polished masks and pointing their spears towards the gates.

Kal'ak looked back at Mit'ka and his group, who scowled and turned abruptly, stalking away in anger at having his fight interrupted. Ma'koh only grinned and slapped his friend on the back, while N'okk didn't so much as grunt, folding his arms again and looking through the gates in curiosity. Kal'ak calmed himself and retracted his weapons, then strode past the guards and through the gates into the core of the great Yautja city.

Inside the citadel, a place Kal'ak had never been, was reserved for elders, clan leaders, arbitrators, or otherwise highly esteemed and honored clan members or guests of the like. The entire place was much more artistically constructed than the rest of the Ark, offering a lavish and luxurious resort compared to the metal on metal of the lower levels of each branch outside the citadel. With two guards flanking him, leading him to the council chamber, Kal'ak walked through extravagant gardens, past fountains and ponds of crystal clear water, and past groups of quietly conversing elders, nobles, and other honored warriors that had audience in the citadel. They all turned to watch him as he was escorted by, and some even recognized him, possibly knowing why he was there. He received several grins of intrigue, even more scowls, but also a few nods or salutes of respect. Even some elders and experienced hunters had heard of his deed apparently, and not all disapproved. Kal'ak noticed that many elders and retired estate holders, who no longer sought to travel and hunt, had slaves or pets of various species, following behind them like dogs to their masters.

One small creature in particular caught his eye, as he walked past a group of noble Yautja standing and conversing by the edge of a sparkling glass pool. The elder with them, clearly a highly revered warrior, rich even for his age, adorned in gold accented armor and the finest looking materials that honor could buy, had a pale, waiflike creature kneeling beside him. The alien was person shaped, two arms and two legs, a head with two eyes, but it's skin was a pinkish tan and looked like the softest hide Kal'ak had ever seen. Instead of the thick, cord-like tendrils of his people's hair, the creature had countless tiny strands of yellow and gold silk flowing from its scalp, pulled back and bound behind its head in an intricate design. It's face was the strangest part of all, round and soft looking, like the rest of it, but with round, wide, enormous eyes. The eye sockets were so shallow it's eyes appeared ready to fall from its head, but it was oddly… beautiful. Those big round eyes were so prominent and colorful, and appeared almost _juicy_ with moisture, magnifying their beauty.

_Is that a human?_ Kal'ak thought, having never seen one before in person, though he recognized it from the diagrams and images in the archives.

The human's body was covered by only two small garments, around its chest and around its waist, leaving most of its sandy colored skin completed exposed. The only other article it wore was a tight black collar around its _ridiculously_ slender and prominent neck. Kal'ak couldn't believe how long and… exposed its neck was, it was almost as if the creature was _designed_ to have its head sliced off easily. He then noticed that it also had a clear plastic tube draped around its… odd, round protrusions on the side of its head (ears, he realized. Paya, they must have terribly insensitive hearing to require vibration capturing folds that large), which looped under it's small nose and branched two short tubes upwards into the breathing holes in that little, fleshy horn on the front of its face. Behind the human's head, the tube secured to its collar and then connected through a short line to a device on the elder's belt. Kal'ak suspected the human needed specialized air to breath in here, and consequently couldn't stray far from its master lest it suffocate.

Despite its… alien nature, Kal'ak found the human strangely beautiful. It looked so elegant and graceful. Long, slender limbs and skin that looked like melted cream, he literally couldn't take his eyes off the elder's pet, kneeling there beside its owner. He slowed a bit as he walked past, trying to linger and stare for a bit longer at the delicate looking creature, but received an irritated grunt from his escorts, whom he promptly obliged and caught up to.

Finally, they reached the council chamber, entering the main doors into a large hall, decorated with trophies and relics of ancient hunters past. The guards led him across the shining marble floors to the sanctum door, and stopped short as Kal'ak looked around the extravagant but otherwise empty gallery.

"Enter, the council awaits." The guard spoke, in an eerie monotone that had Kal'ak all too happy to push open the doors to the inner sanctum and leave the tower citadel guards behind. The heavy door seemed to close itself shut behind him, and for moments Kal'ak stood in nothing but darkness. He could only sense that he was in a large room, seemingly empty, and could see nor hear anything but the sound of his own breath. Without warning, a deep voice bellowed out from the darkness…

"Step forward." Was its only command, and Kal'ak felt no reason to disappoint. He strode forward several steps blindly, but dim lights slowly began to glow on the ceiling, illuminating the floor at least. A few more steps forward and the lights shined bright enough to dimly display the room. He stood on more polished marble, in a large, round chamber. Before him was a half-moon shaped wall, three times his height and carved with intricate relief depicting various cultural designs, hieroglyphic texts, and pictorial accounts of ancient tales. Looking around the wall, he also noticed that, evenly spaced from end to end, carved into the stone among the images was each of the 13 clan's symbol. He looked up to the top where he expected each elder to be seated, but there was nothing but blackness at first. Slowly then, the faces of the elders looming down at him were lit by individual spotlights, one at a time.

_Paya… I see it's not just my clan leaders who have a taste for theatrics_, he thought cynically. _Aren't these old fools too busy for stuff like this?_

Finally, 9 of the 13 elders were lit and sitting before him, high upon their wall, staring impassively down into the center of the room. Kal'ak assumed the missing 4 must simply be off the Ark, out on their clanships. But then, flickering in one at a time, the ghostly image of each elder filled his seat, clearly a hologram, broadcast from across the territories any time the elders called a council meeting. Kal'ak simply centered himself in the circular hall and looked up at his superiors. The thirteen faces seemed to regard one another, all nodding to each other in respect or signal to proceed, possibly both, then the centrally seated elder spoke. His rough, gravelly voice showed his age, but held no lack of grandeur, clearly the practiced orator that he was.

"Kal'ak de 'ikai you have been summoned here before the high council, in regards to your actions four moons ago. The council has deliberated in advance, and will now hear your account. Speak, young warrior, you do know the reason for which you have been brought here?" The elder, who Kal'ak recognized as the high elder of the Fifth clan, did not sound overly cross about this hearing, but rather interested and amused. The scowling faces of some of the others however, left Kal'ak to believe his fate could still go in any direction.

"I do." He responded simply, not afraid of the results of this council, but anxious to know them nonetheless.

"Then tell us," called one of the elders from a lesser clan, "is it true that you disobeyed your betters and snuck aboard the ship of a _dangerous_ Bad Blood clan that your clan had been called upon to apprehend?" This particular council member, Kal'ak could tell wanted to see him punished.

"And killed them all." Kal'ak replied perhaps too arrogantly, which received shocked huffs from the council, and even a few barks of laughter.

One of the holograms spoke then, shifting a bit in his seat, with parts of him disappearing for a moment as he leaned out of the communication field.

"Your clan elder tells us that after receiving instructions to intercept the clan of bad bloods, your ship remained in orbit while the elders and highest warriors traveled to the planet where the arbitrator was killed in search of the H'dlak Thwei. But _you_, took it upon yourself to transport aboard the hidden ship, dispatch a number of the H'dlak, before setting their ship to self-destruct and returning to your clanship, all singlehandedly if the accounts are correct. An impressive feat", he concluded, folding his hands and sitting back in his chair.

"Seven, of the bad blooded scum." Kal'ak confirmed, gaining more grins from the elders who were clearly amused by his antics. He was beginning to feel quite confident of his chances of being rewarded rather than punished for this.

"And HOW," bellowed one of the council members near the edge of the room, "did you manage to find and interface with their transporter systems? How can we be sure you were not in league with these dishonorable fugitives, but turned on them in the final hour when their death was inevitable?"

Before Kal'ak even had a chance to respond, his own clean leader snarled in his defense. "Preposterous! This young hunter, though reckless and foolish, has been a great warrior and honorable brother of the Stone Knife clan since his first days of trial."

Another highly respected leader of the First Five also spoke on his behalf, and Kal'ak felt grateful for his noble bloodline for once, as well as his impressive hunting record. Had it not been for these factors, his arrogance and his contempt for authority may have cost him the support of these esteemed elders.

"Enough," called the executor of the council, who sat at the center of the thirteen, directly in front of Kal, "it has already been decided, but your presence here was desired to gauge the validity of these accounts." He waved his hand once, and the stone floor before Kal'ak slowly opened and a marble pedestal rose swiftly out of the darkness. Atop the stone slab sat a ceremonial spear, decorated in ornately carved blades and runes carved into its finely crafted alloys. The spear was a gift, given to honored warriors by the council for deeds of great courage, skill, or sacrifice. It was also a token signifying permission to enter into the citadel whenever carried by a Yautja. Kal'ak took it, and ceremoniously bowed to one knee in respect to the council, expecting to be sent away with nothing more than this valuable, yet disappointing reward.

"Your actions proved you a most skilled and courageous warrior, young one." the elder continued. "Though foolish and disobedient, what you have done is the mark of a great hunter and truly honored member of your clan, and your people. You have shown the skill and daring required of our Arbitrators… however, you are far too young to have earned that honor. We cannot yet elevate you to such a high position, but you are to be rewarded. Name your request and if within reason, the council shall see it done." The elder finished and sat back quietly, though others looked displeased, this was clearly the decision and it would not be reversed.

_Now that's more like it_, thought Kal'ak, grinning inwardly whilst trying to keep a look of utmost humility and respect upon his face. For a moment, still lingering in his mind, he thought of asking for that delicious looking human he had seen earlier in the courtyards. Whether he wanted to eat it, or… something else, he was unsure. But he quickly shook himself to sense, and couldn't help but smile slightly as he looked up at the elders to request the one thing he had always wanted.

* * *

Upon exiting the council chambers, Kal'ak stepped into the lush courtyards once again and this time was able to thoroughly enjoy his surroundings. He strode through the fountains and gardens idly, taking his time returning to the citadel gates through which he first entered. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn't look around for the elder and his human pet, but found no sign of them. Disappointed but unable to feel anything but ecstatic at the moment, he walked up to the citadel gates, which opened before him, and stepped past the citadel guards who parted for him as if he was Paya himself.

Outside the gates on the causeway, exactly where he left them, were Ma'koh and N'okk. The giant hunk of warrior simply stood, staring intently at the sky as if deep in thought, while Ma'koh was sitting against a nearby wall, snapping bones and tiny skulls off the trimmings of his armor, and throwing them lazily at N'okk's legs, eliciting an occasional grunt or click from their silent friend. N'okk was the first to see him approaching from the citadel gates, but only nodded in acknowledgement. Ma'koh finally noticed he had returned, and jumped up to meet him, mandibles spread wide in amusement as he noticed the spear that Kal'ak carried.

"So… you killed the whole council and took their finest spear, and now we're to be the most hunted bad bloods in the entire galaxy, yes?" His friend always seemed to get into the most ridiculous kinds of trouble, and if he couldn't find some, he made some up.

"Better." Kal'ak responded with one smirking mandible, as he strapped the spear onto his back and opened his wrist computer to access the archives. "Come on, I have things to pick up." His friends followed him curiously, Ma'koh never ceasing his questions about what the council said, where they were going, and whether or not he was now the right hand of the biggest fugitive in the galaxy. N'okk said nothing, but Kal'ak could tell he was also curious, listening intently to Ma'koh's questions and showing only very subtle hints that he too wanted answers. The trio took the nearest transporter to the renowned crafting sector, where all Yautja knew the finest blade masters created and sold the latest and greatest weaponry and technology. Kal'ak made straight for the shop of the famous Z'arzod, or "Zod" as he was known among the clans. The place was quite exclusive, and inside was rather empty, but outside the doors, lines of unblooded and young bloods stood, requesting entry if only to view the blades of the greatest warriors. Such low ranking hunters, however, had not near enough the reputation and accumulated honor to enter this particular workshop, let alone afford to purchase anything made by the master craftsman.

Kal'ak and his two brothers easily parted the crowd through respect alone, with some of those who recognized him holding out their arms asking for a scar from his blade. At the door Kal'ak wordlessly held out the elder spear, and the singular guard stepped aside with a nod of respect. Once inside, Ma'koh didn't bother to stick by his side, but instead went off excitedly, browsing the displayed pieces and wondering if simply being acquainted with "T'savo the legend" would grant him enough reputation to buy one of the unrivaled blades. Kal'ak walked directly to the back, with N'okk quietly in tow, looking around at the wares but more interested in why Kal was here and what he would say about the elders council. The pair found the old purveyor of blades sitting behind a desk adorned with small but exotic trophies, near the back of the shop. Though hunched and frail looking, the old man Zod somehow appeared oddly formidable and fearsome still, and Kal'ak didn't doubt that any young warrior who dare challenge this legend of weaponry would meet a swift end by some hidden and equally swiftly deployed blade. The old man looked up slowly as Kal'ak approached, and grinned a half-tuskless, dull-toothed smile.

"Welcome, young spiller of bad blood" he croaked at the two of them, "I had heard of your deeds, and of your arrival on the homeworld. I wondered if a young blood the likes of you would think himself worthy of carrying my steel."

Kal'ak stifled his anger, mostly at being called a young blood, even by this old legend. Though young, he was moons beyond being a _young blood_, he silently argued. He was a hunter now, a near famous one at that. But if he wanted the best weapons that honor could buy, he felt he should hold his tongue.

"Am I _not_ welcome here?" he asked, in hindsight a little less respectfully that he thought he should have. The old craftsman laughed, then stood up faster than Kal'ak could have thought he was capable of.

"If you were not…here you would not be."

_Fair enough_, Kal'ak thought, and unfastened the elder's spear from his back. He thrust it in front of Zod and let him ponder over it for a moment, before making his offer.

"I'm here to trade. I received this from the high council, a rare gift I'm sure, but I hope to trade it here for a more… practical spear." Kal'ak set the ornate decoration down on Zod's desk, but the old man didn't look twice at it, instead turning on his heel and shuffling over to a display case built into the wall behind his desk. With a wave, he unlocked the door and pulled out a simple looking shaft, a bit longer than Kal'ak's forearm, from elbow to claws. It was slim in diameter, precisely the size of a spear Kal'ak sought. Zod walked slowly around the desk and spun the long, thin tube in his hand, expertly, before giving it a subtle shake, upon which two spear points extended out both ends with lightning speed. Each side of the handle now stretched out twice the length of the original handle on both sides.

_A perfect size_, Kal'ak thought, but was it capable of what he wanted?

"Is it…" Before he could even finish his question, the old man wordlessly took a flawless fighting stance, grasping the handle with both hands. Immediately, the spear's ends morphed with an audible _shhhink, _revealing two dangerously sharp blades at the end of each rod, turning the spear into a combi-stick. He then stood up straight and held the spear out towards the him. Instead of handing the spear to him, the old man held the weapon out flat in front of Kal'ak and N'okk, and gave an impressive demonstration of its multiple forms and capabilities. Without moving a muscle, he changed lengths, blades, points, and purposes. One side retracted and the other became a long, single-edged sword. Then the other end mimicked and created a double-edged, double-sided sword. A perfect multispear, the kind Kal'ak had only read about in the latest technology and weapons reviews. He had dreamt of having one for moons, but there were few produced, and even fewer given to anyone but elders, arbitrators, and the greatest of honored warriors. After his impressive demonstration, the ancient weapons crafter retracted both blades, and held the matte-finished tube that was the handle out to Kal'ak. He took it without hesitation and, completely genuinely, bowed his head in thanks and respect to the older master. N'okk tilted his head curiously, not used to seeing such humility from his usually cocky friend. Kal'ak tossed the spear from hand to hand excitedly, almost _dying_ with anticipation to use it to kill something. Had he not been in the presence of two Yautja whom he genuinely respected, he may have been inclined to make a challenge right then.

"The the blades change with your _mind,_" spoke the old man, now shuffling back behind his desk once again to sit calmly. "When next you put on your mask and bring all your systems online, grasp it and will the blades to generate all the forms you wish to store in memory. From that moment on, it will remember your flesh, and your command. My blades are compatible with _all_ masks and armor," he finished.

Kal'ak bowed again in thanks and made to leave, but the old man cleared his throat and Kal'ak turned to see him holding the elder's spear out to him. "You are forgetting something, young warrior," Zod growled across the room. Kal'ak walked back to his desk and began to protest, but the old man stopped him with one gnarled, clawed hand. "The honor is mine, to arm the skilled and brave. I will not take it."

Kal'ak nodded again, then both he and N'okk departed, carrying both the elder's spear and the advanced new combi-stick strapped to his back. As they approached the exit, Kal'ak turned to N'okk and held out the decorative spear to his giant friend.

"You want it?" he asked, not so desperate to shed the respect of the high council, but feeling generous and wishing this token of respect not go to waste.

N'okk shook his head and raised his palm in refusal. "Give it to our foolish friend, he is in need of respect more than I." Kal'ak agreed, and they walked out the door to find Ma'koh challenging young bloods in the corridor, laughing as they backed away, and offering to fight two at once. The joker turned to grin at them, before calling after a pack of retreating unblooded Yautja to call them a host of disrespectful names. As Kal'ak and N'okk stepped up behind him, even more scattered out of the area, with Ma'koh grinning triumphantly as if he had actually just won a fight.

"You know, you're going to get killed very soon," Kal'ak insisted at his friend, who turned around with a look of pure apathy. Ma'koh merely shrugged and spit on the ground, then looked curiously around Kal'ak for any new and exciting weapons he may have acquired in the shop.

"Well… what did you get?" He pestered.

"Nothing you will ever afford, since you won't be living long enough to make a name for yourself." Instead of showing off his new spear, Kal'ak held out the elder's and pushed it against Ma'koh's armor, refusing to take no for an answer. "Take this, it will only go to waste hanging on my trophy wall," he insisted. Ma'koh, however, seemed to have no intention of refusing. He snatched the elaborate blade from Kal'ak's hand and held it high, wide eyed with delight.

"I can get into the _citadel_ with this!" He exclaimed.

"And I suspect be promptly removed, in one piece or several, for offending someone you shouldn't," Kal'ak thought out loud, to which N'okk grunted in agreement. Ma'koh seemed not to notice, and went about aiming and mock throwing his new spear at anything that happened to be in front of him. "Come on, we have one more place to go," Kal'ak said as he took off towards the city core. His two friends shared a glance, wondering where he might be leading them, and then jogged to catch up.

"If you're taking us to a pleasure house, we're _not_ interested in watching that", Ma'koh called after him, but Kal'ak only waved them forward, and the three of them entered the nearest city transporter and exited in the city's industrial sector, several decks that spanned the entire central core of the Ark, below the citadel. This area was the last, all-indoor deck before the bottommost sector of the Ark, which consisted of the massive shipyards beneath the citadel. After a short walk through the industrial sector's _least_ industrial corridors, Kal'ak entered a nearby elevator, and took his friends down to the infamous Yautja shipyards, where the hunter's power over the galaxy was forged. As soon as they stepped out onto the catwalk of the yards, Ma'koh seemed to guess why they were here.

"The shipyards...? No… NO! No. Fucking. Way. Kal… they _didn't_?"

Kal'ak grinned and replied, "They did," before bringing up his wrist computer and trying to navigate through the shipyard manifests. He was unsure of exactly where to go to find his reward, but before he could access anything useful, a short, orange hued, bug eyed creature came running up to the three of them waving a datapad in greetings. Kal'ak had not gotten a click out before the alien began talking at the three of them in their own language, yet so fast it was hard to keep up.

"Welcome, welcome! You are T'savo the slayer of bad bloods yes? Come, come, I have been told of your arrival. We have your ship nearly ready in bay 9, come, you will see, you must see."

The orange stranger was of a species Kal'ak wasn't sure of, but he was guessing it was a Salarian, a race of scientists that had long ago allied with the Yautja, and now did much of their inventing and engineering when it came to technology. Though he had never read as much, this particular Salarian made it appear as if his species did not need to breath. Even as he briskly trotted away from them, motioning for the three hunters to follow, he still never ceased chattering on about the ship he was about to show them.

"Come come!" He called from a few paces ahead, Kal'ak and his companions found themselves using their full stride in order to keep up with the shorter but surprisingly quick alien. "You will be most pleased I suspect. This _particular_ vessel was commissioned, brand new of course, for an arbitrator. If I'm not mistaken, the one that was killed by the very same clan of bad bloods that you destroyed. Most impressive… Yes the high council informed me that since you requested a ship, they felt it fitting you receive the vessel that the fallen arbitrator would have taken. Indeed since you ended up completing the task that _he_ failed to do. _Most_ impressive, surprising that a Yautja would know how to hack into the transporter systems of another ship, a cloaked one at that… no offense meant of course."

Kal'ak would have replied '_none taken_', but before he had the chance, the verbose orange scientist rounded a corner, and as Kal'ak stepped onto the walkway to follow him, he stopped dead at the sight looming before him. There, docked in the construction bay, sat a brand-shining-new class 3 frigate. Robotic cranes and arms were still applying finishing touches to the outer hull and a crew of Grunts scurried about the outside of the craft, and presumably the inside as well, attaching, tweaking, and adjusting various last minute components. The sight even served to stop the endless ranting of the Salarian, for a moment. After a brief stop around the corner to take in the full view of the ship, the Salarian took off again, towards the nearest boarding ramp, leading Kal'ak to the underside airlock near the cargo bay.

"Come come! Your ship will be ready in moments. Several elders from the high council requested that I divert other crews to this vessel in order to finish it quickly. I assure you however no corners shall be cut, as they say. The bays under _my _charge produce only the finest ships, the finest I assure you. Come, shall I show you the interior?"

Lead by the Salarian, the three Yautja boarded the nearly complete frigate, and were taken on an almost _too_ complete tour of its form and functions. The little orange man never ceased his prattling, allowing the trio to barely share a click or growl of excitement, or annoyance, during the showing. It was however very educational, and exciting, to attempt to take in every piece of his new ship at once. The Salarian explained its features in rapt detail, often times so technical in his explanations that even Kal'ak was unable to follow. Ma'koh, he thought, must be utterly lost. The ship was nothing less than state of the art, not unlike his new spear, and it did not go unnoticed by Kal'ak that he know possessed some of the most coveted technology among his entire race, weapons, armor, and a ship that hunters three times his age still only dreamed of. His new ship was equipped with the best of the best in weapons and defenses, cloaking and communication, as well as internal amenities such as a fully equipped, top of the line medical facility, training room, trophy chamber, and quite possibly the most luxurious quarters he had ever heard of, let alone been inside. The bath chamber alone was twice the size of his quarters on the clanship, and his state room was like a small cargohold. The actual cargohold was divided into several sections, one of which was dedicated to containing live captures, and was already stocked with multiple cages of various sizes. Their last stop was the bridge, a veritable command and control center where every part of the ship could be accessed and configured. The Salarian engineer pointed out the main controls and features, but everything seemed standard for a Yautja hunter's vessel, which Kal'ak was all too familiar with, solely from reading and studying every piece of data he could find on ships in the archives. He was confident in his ability to fly it, and sat down slowly in the captain's chair, switching on the main computer and communications, finding that these systems were already fully functional.

He sincerely thanked the Salarian, and asked him to go and see his ship fully completed and designated for takeoff as soon as possible. The engineer congratulated him on his new ship, rather extensively not to their surprise, and then exited, making his way to the nearest airlock to oversee the final steps before the ship was ready for undocking. Finally able to enjoy some peace and quiet, the three of them sat in the control room chairs and silently admired the ships construction for a few moments. Finally, Ma'koh slid his seat over to the communications console, and began to hastily look up interspecies porn, according to him, the "perfect christening" for a new ship.

"Well _shit_, brother…" he said, finally closing out of the explicit images. "A solo ship… acquired by single handedly slaughtering 7 bad bloods aboard their own cruiser, you're officially the luckiest son of a hardmeat I've ever heard of."

"After today, I have to agree with you", Kal'ak said from the captain's chair, not bothered by that analysis, or anything else really. Sitting in that seat, an entire ship at his fingertips, _his_ ship, made him feel like a god. He ran his claws along the control panel, feeling electric excitement under the newly machined metal, arcing through his fingertips. N'okk, still silent, brought up the navigation controls, displaying a large three dimensional map of the nearby space. He went about scrolling around the galaxy map, finally speaking up to ask where Kal'ak would go first. Kal thought for a moment, but really hadn't a clue. His greatest dream was to acquire his own ship, but he never really had any specific place he wanted to go. After only a short while, the communicator lit up, piping out the voice of the hurried Salarian engineer through the control room's audio system.

"Ah, excellent, yes! All systems optimal. Arbitrator… ahh, er Captain T'savo, your ship is complete, ready to go. I've informed traffic control already, am patching them through to your communications now. Ah… one last thing, I must insist… a fine ship, try not to destroy it, I hope, such a waste."

"Oh I don't plan to" Kal'ak reassured him over the microphone, then promptly switched off the channel and awaited traffic control's clear to launch signal. Kal'ak started up the main propulsion drives, immediately hearing a dull roar of the inertial dampeners and idle thrusters that now took the ship's weight off the docking arms. Only moments later a message from traffic control came through, clearing his ship for takeoff, and the drydock clamps that previously held the ship in place detached and retracted. A display on the controls showed them when all attachments were clear, and Kal'ak clawed the manual controls for the first time, smoothly dropping the ship from its construction bay, and slowly burning towards the closest shipyard exit. The vessel handled effortlessly, and in seconds the shipyard gates were opening to the red, dusty landscape beyond the Ark. Kal'ak took his new ship in a high arc above the station, then back down towards the clanship, still docked on one of the 13 long arms of their homeworld.

Kal'ak guided his gleaming new craft to the docking bay of the clanship, and was promptly cleared for entrance. As he maneuvered the ship to a suitable airlock bridge, he initiated automatic docking procedures and stood up with his friends, to see them off the ship. Ma'koh and N'okk had never expected to go with him on his first journey, as they knew well Kal'ak's longing to be a solo hunter, but Ma'koh couldn't help but grin and feign a friendly punch to the gut.

"After you go out there and find the latest, greatest prey on some uncharted world, you _better_ come back and get us before you take anyone else there." If anything, Ma'koh would actually miss his friend more than mind that he wasn't going with him. Voicing this sentiment however, was simply not in their vocabulary. Outside the airlock, Kal'ak put a heavy hand on his best friend's shoulder and shook it sincerely.

"Don't die before I get back," was his way of saying _I'll miss you, and hope to see you again soon_. Ma'koh smiled and waved his new spear in thanks at his friend, before departing into the halls of the clanship. N'okk was even less vocal, but still gave a whole-hearted farewell, in his own way.

"Hunt well, and bring honor to us," He said frankly, and Kal'ak would have shook his shoulder as well, but it was simply too high for him to reach without some serious feelings of inadequacy.

"You as well brother, and if you get the chance, kill that child-bearer Mit'su'ka for me." N'okk smiled and grunted his amusement and agreement to this request, before stalking after Ma'koh down the corridors of the giant ship. Kal'ak was preparing to leave, but looked to his side to find High Elder Ya'kesh standing outside his ship, waiting patiently for him.

"Elder," Kal'ak addressed him, nodding in reverence. The ancient leader of their clan smiled, an uncommon event among elders and leaders who usually remained so solemn.

"You have been given a great reward Kal'ak de 'ikai, thanks in large part to myself and the other elders of the First Five. Our testimony on your behalf is what allowed you this great gift, we would not see you squander it." The elder paused, awaiting Kal's response with wise brows arched.

"I mean not to Elder, I will cherish this honor, by my blood and the clan I swear it…" The elder cut him off, laughing in the way only an old man can.

"Your formalities are unnecessary young warrior, all I hope is that you find honor, and whatever glory you seek. We have no doubt of your potential Kal'ak, but your recklessness may be your undoing. The clan, indeed the high council, expects great things from you, and we believe you are deserving of this honor. Do not prove us wrong young brother." Kal'ak could only bow in appreciation at this sign of respect, and the elder grasped his shoulder with equal reverence. "Go and hunt well son of the Stone Knife Clan, enjoy this privilege that so few are honored with… and do not die too quickly," The elder finally added with wizened smirk. With that, he turned abruptly, his black cape flowing behind him, and entered the ships corridors, disappearing behind an airlock door in mid-stride.

Kal'ak paused in reflection for a few moments, before regaining his original excitement, and some of the recklessness that his clan leader had only just warned about. He spun to the ship's airlock and almost ran back to the bridge. Sitting back down in the pilots chair, he took hold of the manual controls once again, having too much fun to simply allow the automatic routines to undock him from the clanship and leave the planet's atmosphere. In moments he was rocketing at full speed out of the churning green and yellow clouds of the barren rock's sky, and met with an unfettered view of the stars on a background as black as the xenos he now dreamt of slaying by the hundreds. He allowed the ship to drift for a while, simply reveling in the feeling of power and pure glory that he now held. This was _better_ than being an Arbitrator, he thought. He had the ship, the weapons, the reputation and honor, but was unhindered by the responsibility of the calling. No orders of where to go and what to hunt were sent to him by the council, and no bad bloods sought his head above all other trophies.

_Though I certainly wouldn't mind finding their heads_, he mused silently. Hastily, he then opened the navigation controls and explored the map of the galaxy. It was known by all, that every new solo hunter who received his own ship, immediately went off in search of previously uncharted worlds and undiscovered prey. Kal'ak was no different, if not the _most_ determined young hunter, to find a new and horrifically dangerous prey, or some unmet race of worthy warrior opponents beyond the known territory of the Yautja. He set his course, to the remote edges of the cluster, passing not far from the infamous blue and green world called "Earth", an enticing destination for _every_ Yautja no doubt, but requiring special license and permission granted by the high council to hunt there.

_Shit_, he thought, _I should have requested an Earth permit as well._

But that could wait he supposed, if he returned to the homeworld with the skulls of worthy and previously unknown prey, securing permission to hunt the humans on their home planet would be an easy task. With his outer-rim course plotted, he initiated the hyperdrive and felt a rush of power like no other, as his _own_ ship blast out of orbit into speeds far beyond that of light itself. Kal'ak, recently dubbed by his people as T'savo the legend, smiled to himself, high on freedom and power, then stood up to more thoroughly explore the depths of his very own ship.

* * *

Somewhere amidst the countless lights and seemingly endless skyline of Shanghai, far above the millions of mere mortals that clogged the traversing streets below, a man of immeasurable influence sat in his penthouse office, looking out over the nightly glow of Earth's largest city. He sat far away from the window, in the center of a tasteful conference room, so as to only see the picturesque landscape that was a human city skyline, and not the filth of the undercity that even now swarmed below him. The man was young, and fit, but his face showed the reflection of ages, the minor creases in his skin giving off an air of wisdom beyond his years. He leaned back in his chair, the head seat of the long conference table, headrest bumping against the solid oak as he rocked slightly, his hand rested on a short glass of amber whiskey on slowly melting cubes of crystal clear ice. A gently rolling cigar was lowered from his lips and held between his fingers, the bulk of it burning off without ever being inhaled, filling the room with undulating coils of smoke and a thick and entirely affluent scent. The man slowly raised his glass, just as a faint buzz came through the speakers from the office door. Straightening his pressed, black suit, the unnamed executive casually set down his drink and pressed a button on the arm of his chair. A chime sounded, and seconds later the large double doors opened and a second man, in an only slightly less expensive suit stepped into the room with a briefcase in one hand and a tablet in the other.

"Sir," he said hurriedly, clearly short of breath from whatever strains he took to get there so quickly, "we've just received the destination proximity signal from the Mortifer, the crew should be taken out of stasis within a matter of hours, and by tomorrow they should be in orbit."

The seated man paused, smiling slightly at the news. He didn't bother to look at his assistant, but simply picked up his glass and took the sip of whiskey that had been interrupted by the second man's entrance. Then, staring out the wall of plate glass, he spoke in a slow and decisive tone that radiated anticipation and a certain malicious conceit.

"And the payload?" He swirled his glass, sloshing spirits and ice against the pristine crystal.

"All reports indicate not one problem aboard the ship sir. The crew is all accounted for, and the payload is secure," his assistant happily reported, so pleased to give good news to his master, like a loyal lap dog bringing back a fetched ball.

"And how long after they reach orbit will the payload be delivered and… active?" His assistant looked defeated now, unable to answer his question; he hesitated and nervously dropped his briefcase so as to scroll through his tablet, searching the mission reports for an answer.

"I uh… it doesn't exactly… I'm not sure…" The second man stammered with uncertainty, but his employer cut him off short.

"Don't I pay you to know these things? The company is expecting this operation to demonstrate just how effective both our industrial and weapons divisions are, and I need every detail to make sure that happens." The man spoke with no anger, and an even tone, yet somehow managed to sound more intimidating than the loudest drill sergeant.

"Yes sir, I'll find out right away." The second man made to leave, but stopped short of the office doors and turned to his boss, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "And sir, if you don't mind me asking… I was just curious, why didn't they send you with them, to oversee the Pandora operation in person?"

The man smiled modestly and sipped his drink with another long, drawn out twirl of the glass. "Well in a way they did, but do you think I would actually get on that ship? With those _things_? Just be glad I didn't send _you_." The man spoke as if he was only casually joking at the notion, but his assistant knew all too well that if he had played his cards _wrong _back when the mission was launched, he really could be out there in a cryotube right now, separated only by a few modules from _the payload_. Not a pleasant thought. "Now," said the man, "find and send in that bio-chem… bio-weapons... the expert."

His assistant nodded and nearly jogged out of the office, and the man laughed to himself. Those young ladder climbers, always believing that kissing ass and doing things faster will one day get them where he is now. He swirled his drink and ash'd his cigar, nearly forgetting about the smoldering stub, then stood up and made his way into an adjacent room. Inside was what appeared to be a space-age coffin coming out of a large ring in the wall. A familiar avatar link module, but this one was decidedly special. This particular module, was developed by the company specifically for him and this operation. It was dubbed the QEALM, or quantum entanglement avatar link module, and would allow him to remotely operate a human avatar across the 4 odd light-years to Alpha Centauri space and eventually the surface of Pandora. In theory, he could be anywhere in the universe from the comfort of his office, but the mineral rich and now infamous world of the system nearest earth was his second body's destination. The man carefully opened the lid of his private mind-link, and examined the interesting construction inside, curiously probing the gel like substance on which he would be laying. If all went according to plan, he thought, the payload would be deployed to the surface of Pandora, and certainly rid the moon of the many troublesome indigenous life forms, especially those lithe, blue natives that had proven to be so troublesome for the RDA. Well, Weyland Yutani was _not_ the RDA.

_Building better worlds indeed,_ he thought to himself, closing the lid of the QEALM just as he heard his office door open and the head engineer from the bio-weapons division entered, settings his briefcase and computer down on the conference table.

"Dr. Tokiyamo," he said returning to the larger room, "please, sit down… we have much to discuss."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **

**Chapter 2! Everyone please read and review! Special thanks to Speederina for motivation to finish this chapter. Still not MUCH action in this one, but I still think its better than chapter 1. **

**Everyone enjoy, and SHARE!  
**

* * *

Far above the churning blue and white clouds of Alpha Centauri IV, dubbed Polyphemus by the distant people of earth, the first ever single hulled human vessel to travel out of the Sol system slowly drifted out of the shadows of the dark side of the giant gas globe. The WYS Mortifer was the pioneer of a new age. Gone were the days of fragile insectoid ships of exposed girders, tin cans, and aluminum foil. Thanks to Weyland Yutani™, the human race would now venture into the stars in vessels that far more respectfully represented their impending dominance over the galaxy. Of course the public knew nothing of how these new technologies were developed, or where the prototypes came from. Ms. Yutani's legacy to the people was that of intelligent business, hard work, and proclivity to profitable risk taking. Few people actually knew that the Yutani namesake had strong-armed its way into the Weyland empire through the possession of one priceless and incredible discovery. That uneasy rivalry had eventually grown into a partnership of profit, and now the company was easily the largest and most powerful entity on the planet Earth.

The Mortifer was their crown jewel, the culmination of the company's years of development… the first true warship of the human race, though it would never admittedly be called that. The company called it a deep space "secure" vessel, with "defensive capabilities." In truth it was an armored, cosmic weapons platform, carrying an arsenal to rival a small army. Despite its numerous missiles, cannons, and the one or two experimental energy weapons mounted on its hardened titanium hull, this particular vessel carried something far more menacing in the depths of its cargo holds.

As the WYS Mortifer finally came into the light of the binary suns of Alpha Centauri, the small blue hued moon of Pandora fell in its path. After a short startup, the engines at the rear of the ship fired, white hot rocket exhaust propelling the previously dormant ship towards its destination. Lights on the hull blinked on, and external bay doors opened along its length, extending satellites and communication antennae into the star-specked black.

Deep beneath the armor plates and outer modules, the lights flickered on in Malcolm Kearn's private quarters. Stainless steel reflecting white fluorescent light from every angle made the room glow like a sunroom on a summer day, though there could be no windows so far within the cruiser. In a small recess adjacent to the bathroom, built into the wall, a glass tank sat filled with clear fluid, and the body of an almost naked man suspended behind the glass. A series of short, methodical beeps sounded, and a valve opened somewhere beneath the grate at the bottom of the tank. Slowly, the liquid began to drain, and the man was gently laid back against the molded walls of the tank. The mask that was attacked to his mouth and nose was released with a snap, and pulled up into the ceiling by some million dollar robotic pulley system. When the tank was emptied, a blast of warm air was shot around the man, and the glass separating him from the stainless steel washroom slowly retracted into one side of the wall and disappeared.

For a few moments the man hung lifeless and limp against the rear wall of the now empty tank. The sound of his breathing and heartbeat echoed deafeningly in the polished metal rooms beyond his aquatic casket, but not a flicker of eyelid or twitch upon his mouth made any sign that he might wake. Without warning though, both of his eyes opened wide, with clear and undaunted purpose. Without so much as a yawn, the man quickly stepped out of the tank and onto the brushed steel floor of his personal bathroom, a luxury that very few of the crew of this mission would be afforded. He then tore off the disposable cloth that covered his midsection, and for a few moments, stood unabashedly naked in the center of the room. He casually grabbed a towel off the shower door and wrapped it around his waist. Stepping over to the sink, the man washed his face and hands, slipped on a pair of black rubber-like sandals, and stepped out into the wide, open state room. He looked around only for a moment, before walking briskly to the door of his bedroom and disappearing behind the sliding steel door for only a short few minutes. Like Clark Kent out of a phone booth, moments later the door hissed open and the man stepped out of the sleeping quarters wearing a full body suit that was casual yet screamed authority. Without pause he walked over to his computer console, sat down, and illuminated the room with various holographic screens and virtual control interfaces.

His first order of business was to access the payload status readout. He clicked around, dragged some icons, and, finally satisfied, sat back in his chair and folded his hands comfortably. Taking a deep breath, Malcolm smiled proudly and lost himself in thoughts of wealth, power, and prestige that would come from a success in this mission. Quickly though, he realized how hungry, and thirsty, his new body was, and stood up, walking briskly to the kitchen area of his quarters, but paused halfway to return to the console and initiate the crew's hyper sleep wakeup procedures, as if it were only a minor afterthought.

As Malcolm Kearn ate, taking his time and enjoying the remarkably preserved, fresh-like food, the hundreds of crew members began to slowly rouse from their stasis several decks below in the mass hyper sleep chambers. In a few long minutes the entire crew of miners, scientists, engineers, and soldiers, was up and moving, going about their primary duties and trying to rub the feeling of 3 year sleep out of their eyes.

Malcolm casually finished his meal, gulped the last sips of wine from the bottom of his crystal goblet, and stood up to leave for the bridge, straightening his suit and stowing one of his concealed, handheld energy weapons under his arm. By now, the administration crew, at least, should be starting operations on the bridge, and Malcolm had at least one very important task he wished to see completed as soon as possible. He opened the door to the bridge using his thumb on the scanner, and walked inside to find it already noisy with activity as he suspected. This room would serve as his command center for the time being; at least until the payload had done its job and the ship could begin offloading procedures onto the surface. Most of the crew was of course unaware of exactly why they would not be going to the surface of Pandora right away, but were simply told that methods were being deployed from orbit to clear the area for construction and mining. Not all of the crew were oblivious to the truth of course, some had their suspicions, but most were loyal company employees, Malcolm had made sure of that. Whether they knew what he was doing, and whether or not they liked it wasn't important, they would do their jobs just like every other good worker.

On the bridge, the head science officer and the marine commander were arguing heatedly about something when Malcolm walked in. He had received several 'good mornings' from lesser officers and administrators at their posts, to which he guiltlessly ignored,but his two chief executives hadn't even noticed him standing there after several minutes of their ongoing dispute. It seems the Commander was overly irate that he and his troops would not be landing immediately on arrival, and had to stay aboard the ship and 'wait like pussies' as he so eloquently put it, and his rage was directed at Ms. Aimee Morel, Malcolm's young but surprisingly brilliant head of science division. Finally, after listening to the not-so-civil debate for some time, Malcolm spoke up.

"Ahem, Commander Sikes, Ms. Morel… if you would be so kind…" The pair silenced suddenly, and both turned to look at him with obviously frustrated annoyance at one another. It was the young Frenchwoman who spoke first, smiling overtly in an attempt to put on the charm.

"Mr. Kearn, good morning, I'm so sorry about this," she said, motioning to the Commander as if he was a mess on the floor, "I've been trying to explain to him _why_ his forces can't be deployed to the surface yet, but he seems… unable to comprehend simple words." As she spoke she fluttered her long eyelashes at Malcolm and inched closer every second, a quality he didn't mind in his science officer, and may have even chosen her for the mission because of her proclivity to use her stunning beauty to get what she wanted. Her accent was almost unnoticeable, from so many years in America, China, and probably many other countries of the world. Indeed all the world's languages and dialects were slowly evolving into a slang-ridden, broken excuse for the english language.

"Oh I understand just fine _lady_… but what you're sayin' don't matter to me." The Commander was a tall and burly man of no less than 40, but in better shape than probably any of the young men on this ship, save for some of his own marines. He wore a set of plain olive drab BDU's and already had a cigarette in his mouth, despite the no smoking policy on the bridge.

"I don't give a damn _how_ dangerous y'all say them giant blue monkeys are, they aint no match for my squads, and my boys are lookin' to get down there and see some action."

He smiled a surprisingly white set of teeth, without one missing molar, but Malcolm suspected it wasn't from any lack of actual combat experience. His scar-less face and perfect teeth were probably the products of cosmetic repairs, as his combat record was impressive to say the least. He was hand-picked by the company for this operation, and had a reputation for getting jobs done with ruthless efficiency. Malcolm couldn't help but smile at the Commander's enthusiasm, but had to cut him short.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting Commander, but trust me, it's not the 'blue monkeys' that are keeping you from going down there just yet. You see, we will be deploying a number of… biological weapons containers to the surface before anyone enters the atmosphere." Malcolm strode over to the executive's console on the bridge and took a seat behind the large, multi-screened and holographic, tactical interface. The two officers followed suit and took respective positions on either side of him, still glaring silently at one another. Ms. Morel was obviously aware of the true nature of the bioweapons he spoke of, but had been reluctant to tell the Commander without clearance from Malcolm.

"Bioweapons! What the hell _kind_ of bioweapons?" shouted the commander, standing back up and leaning over the console. "If you're throwin' some kind of super virus or nasty nerve gas down there, how the hell is anyone gonna be able to go down and mine once the… locals are dead?" The Commander clearly wasn't concerned with the mining, but rather wanted to do the killing of the 'locals' himself, the old fashioned way.

"Ah don't worry about that Commander, we have a way to neutralize the… agents, before we set foot on the planet to resume the operations that the RDA failed to secure. And please don't be concerned, you and your men will still have _plenty_ of work to do once we do land. You see, we won't be waiting for the weapons to _completely_ wipe out the indigenous life, no I suspect that would take far too long, but after several days to a week, they will be significantly weakened to the point where we shouldn't have any more trouble like the previous contractors to the unobtainium mining." The Commander, though not satisfied, ceased his arguing which left Ms. Morel with a smug smile on her face, before she turned to Malcolm and captured his full attention.

"Mr. Kearn, I suppose you want to proceed with deployment as soon as possible?"

"Of course," Malcolm answered curtly, but smiled and pretended not to be immune to the young scientist's charms. "When will we be in launch range?"

"In a matter of moments Sir, we'll be within orbital range of Pandora by the time I can ready the launch sequence."

"Excellent," Malcolm smiled at the news he would soon be done waiting to implement his prize strategy. "Arm the launcher, I'll input the code and the fire command on your mark Ms. Morel."

The gorgeous young doctor smiled sweetly at Malcolm, and he knew he could play her own game against her. Though she was intelligent and cunning, he thought, she was still just a woman.

Minutes later, after opening the payload doors and arming the launch sequence, the young science officer gave the ready signal and Malcolm pushed the button that would put into action years of planning and development, and the culmination of the most significant biological study ever undertaken by mankind.

_Funny,_ Malcolm thought, _that we almost spent more time and money trying to understand and control these things than we do our own kind. I guess that just goes to show, which is the superior species…_

* * *

While certain death was hurtling through space into the atmosphere of Pandora, and inevitably onto the surface, the last of the human crew were leaving their cryo chambers and pulling on their respective company uniforms. Almost everything was supplied by the company, and very few personal items were allowed to be brought on this mission. Most of the workers couldn't care less however, as the pay was so good they could have been fed gruel and given rags to wear, and they would have still happily volunteered for this job. Even the lowliest janitor on this mission would be a rich man when he got back to earth, relative to the mass billions that wallowed in poverty and near starvation. Not to mention the accommodations, both on the ship and in the habitation modules on Pandora, weren't half bad compared to some of the tenements and slums of the super cities back home.

The mess hall was quickly filling with hungry inhabitants, most of whom didn't have any responsibilities for the time being, and were able to simply enjoy some free time aboard the oddly named WYS Mortifer. Of the few educated personnel who knew the meaning of the Latin root that gave the ship its name, even fewer cared that they would be "bringing death" to the life of Pandora. Like their employers, most were here for the paycheck, and chose rather to bury their heads in the sand to any unpleasant _genocide_ that might be taking place around them. Not all were so apathetic however, and a small group of young biologists sat together at a table debating the ethical implications of this mission. One of them, a freshly graduated doctor named Barry, was in the middle of explaining to his comrades that the company was disgracefully employing chemical weapons to wipe out the Na'vi.

"You know, what _I_ heard… is that the company developed some specifically engineered bio-weapon that only targets the Na'vi DNA, and that _as we speak_ they're bombarding the surface with toxic gasses that are going to kill practically everything down there and-" In mid-sentence a colleague cut him off, waving his hands in protest and scoffing at him with a look of skepticism.

"No, Barry… no. First of all, the company wouldn't do that, Weyland Yutani's whole mission statement is what? Making better worlds, or something?"

"_Building_ better worlds."

"Yeah yeah whatever, secondly, the company wouldn't have enough data on Pandoran physiology to engineer something like that. I mean, no Na'vi specimen, alive or dead, has ever been brought back to earth, and even when the RDA was here, they never had more than a few blood or tissue samples that they weren't even able to make heads or tails of. There's just no way they could have a DNA specific-"

"They're not _specimens_, they're people," Barry angrily interjected, "and furthermore… do you _really_ believe that? That the company wouldn't wipe out an entire society of intelligent aliens for profit? I for one have no doubt they would…" Barry trailed off, catching the eyes of a couple cute young lab technicians who were staring dreamy-eyed at his conservationist ideals. Just then, before he could come up with more righteous indignation to impress the ladies, a group of tattooed and tough looking marines practically threw their trays down on the metal table in the open seats and interrupted.

"Ya know, I don't care what ya call 'em… whatever's down there is gonna get their asses kicked once we get the dropships loaded and the platoons on the ground!"

"Amen brother," came the approval from one of his squad mates, and the two bumped fists over their powdered pasta.

"You see my point?" Asked Barry, motioning to the pack of grunts that had sat down beside them. "If a bunch of average guys can be trained to mercilessly kill anything they're told, and even _look forward_ to it, do you really think a trillion dollar corporation is going to have any moral qualms with genocide when more revenue is at stake?"

"Hey who you callin' an _average guy_, nerd?" The marine looked over, chewing on a strip of beef jerky. "We're not just _average guys_, alright… we're Colonial Marines, the god damn best of the best." At this, one of this comrades slammed both fists into the table and nearly jumped out of his seat.

"God damn RIGHT! WOOO!"

Barry and some of the other scientists rolled their eyes and quietly went back to eating, but a quiet marine spoke up as the others calmed down enough to be heard over.

"I think he's right, aliens or not, we should at least _hope _for peace with the Na'vi. I read about them before we came here, and no one has the right to arbitrarily wipe them out, especially not for stock prices…" The rest of the table merely stared in surprise for a few moments, stunned at this marine's unexpected views, until the enthusiastic jarhead from before took a scoop of his beans, and narrowed his eyes at his squad mate, smirking.

"Uhhh... since when are you a _pussy_ McKinley?" The rest of the squad burst into laughter, slapping McKinley on the back and hooting at his supposed shame.

"Ahh, ya know…" was McKinley's only response, as he was too busy smiling at the two pretty lab techs that had previously been eyeing Barry, but now ogled at him and leaned over to timidly ask him questions about being a _big_, _strong, _marine. Barry noticed and sighed in defeat, not hoping to compete with humanitarian ideals, on top of 20 inch biceps and a diamond-cut jawline. Silently going back to his freeze dried meal, Barry and the rest of the crew in the mess hall went on with their day, only speculating at the sinister plans of their employers.

Back on the bridge, Malcolm excused himself from the continued arguing of Commander Sikes and Dr. Morel, with the simple request that they not kill each other in his absence. Malcolm returned to the calm solace of his quarters, and poured himself a drink, cut a cigar, and sat down to enjoy the victory of his arrival here. He switched on the large screen in front of his seating area, which simulated a window out into space, looking down on Pandora.

"Now," he said to only himself, too happy to be worried about talking to himself like a fool, "time for my eyes and ears."

He pushed a few buttons on his data-pad, and outside the ship, bays and hatches opened all around to launch an army of satellites, drones, and sensors into orbit and down into the atmosphere and surface of Pandora. Within minutes, Malcolm already had several live feeds up on his screens, showing him the dense jungles of the target continent. His army of drones quickly found the various pieces of the payload, giving him a close up view of any one of the containers at any time. He scrolled through the feeds, checking each and every one, all appearing to have landed successfully and be fully intact. One module, gave a minor warning alarm that indicated one of the pods was damaged on impact, but one less host was no significant loss. After all, that _is_ why they sent five hundred. Malcolm smiled, sipping his scotch and lighting his cigar. Now, it was time to watch, and wait.

* * *

Kal'ak stood in the empty and bare-walled trophy room of his new ship, wondering at the possibilities of future skulls that would hang on these walls.

_I think there, in the center, is where I'll hang the head of my hard-meat queen,_ he thought to himself, picturing the room filled with gleaming, polished skulls, barring their teeth at him and whatever females he brought on board to show off to. A little disappointed by his grand, new trophy room's currently unoccupied state, Kal'ak stomped out into the hall on his way back to the bridge.

On his way through the ship's corridors, he passed by the medical bay, and felt a twinge of curiosity at its multitudes of fancy new equipment, and stepped in to investigate more thoroughly. The gleaming white and steel surfaces contrasted the rest of his ships orange, green, and marble coloration, he noticed for the first time just how remarkably clean this room was. On the far wall was the three stasis and regeneration chambers, which, Kal'ak realized, could keep him young for centuries. He clicked and grinned in excitement at that thought, and considered hopping in one for the remainder of his trip. That could wait however, he thought, as he had no wounds, and was in no hurry to tamper with his body in its prime. Instead he stepped over to the twin medical tables and ran his claws along the sleek stainless, polished alloys, and reached under the table to grab the control tablet and access the instruments. Powering on the tablet, he was given an endless list of procedures, operations, tests, and custom controls for configuring the table's robotic mechanisms.

"_Damn, this will be nice_, he thought, _no more awkwardly stitching up my own wounds…_ He was never good at that stuff anyway. Oh he could manage a life-saving suture without a problem, but it never looked pretty that's for sure. Intrigued, he pulled a knife from his belt and thought for a moment, before dragging it slowly across the bottom of his forearm, leaving a deep gash that immediately started gushing luminescent green blood all over the table. Kal'ak rumbled a little in a Yaujtan grimace, and thumped his bleeding arm down on the table next to the control pad. With a few taps on the touchscreen, the ceiling above the table opened and a swarm of robotic appendages descended from the compartment above, whirring, buzzing, and blinking with medical ferocity. Kal'ak tapped in a few more commands, and watched as several of the spider-like arms extended down towards his wound, and the growing puddle of helium and krypton rich blood he was spilling all over his new ship. Kal'ak watched with child-like amusement, despite the pain, as the various tools cleaned, cauterized, pulled, stitched, applied a healing gel, and bandaged his self-inflicted wound, all in record time.

_Excellent_, he thought, _I'm simply never going to die…_ Though he knew even his ship and it's toys couldn't guarantee that, he still felt like the most powerful being in the universe. In a few hours there wouldn't even be a scar there, as he had chosen the 'no scar' option during the selection process, since there would be no honor in purposely leaving a scar that he himself caused. Smiling to himself and flexing his now barely stinging arm, Kal'ak replaced the control pad under the table and left the medical bay just as the robotic surgeons were deploying wipers and suction to clean up the mess of his blood.

He walked casually towards the bridge, considering turning around and going down to the training room and practicing some spear techniques, but before he could make up his mind, a simple warning signal came through the ships intercoms, as well as his now fully integrated wrist computer. He brought up a summary display on his gauntlet as he jogged towards the bridge, and saw that it seemed the ship's computer had detected a possible anomaly of interest up ahead. He entered the bridge and sat down at the controls, immediately confirming the command to exit hyperspace at the target and cloak. It seems his sensors had picked up what was reading as a propulsion trail of a ship that had crossed his own path some time ago. The reading was faint, but clear and in one direction. He checked navigational data and saw that he was _right_ next to the Earth system, no less, and the trail pointed straight at the next nearest star.

"A human ship?," he wondered out loud. His people knew well that the humans were recently becoming much more advanced, and sending primitive vessels out of their own system. In fact it was a major controversy lately, about what to do with them. Many factions were insisting that they be wiped out, or at least sent back into the stone age, while some suggested they should be contacted openly, and harvested for their workforce and often formidable warriors. The high council had made no decision yet, but even Kal'ak believed something would be done soon. Whatever the fate of the humans, he may not be allowed to go to Earth, but there were certainly no laws against hunting them if they left their planet. Kal'ak grinned in excitement, and decided to put his search for new, undiscovered prey on hold for now. A few humans skulls would be _perfect_ for his trophy room, and he had always wanted to hunt the crafty little beings. From what he read and heard, they could be as cunning as his own kind, and though their weapons were primitive, they were proven to be quite… effective.

He eagerly punched in a new navigation course, to follow the propulsion signature through hyperspace, which he assumed was going to the nearby binary star system that was closest to the human home. From what his computer told him, no life-bearing worlds orbited the twin suns, but if the humans were headed there, he was sure he would find their fragile forms harvesting some resource or otherwise serving their material greed. He had read a _lot_ about humans. With another dose of extreme acceleration, Kal'ak was pushed into his seat and began to watch the ETA timer count down until he would be collecting the coveted heads of the people from Earth.

Only a short couple of hours later, Kal'ak's ship punched out of the hyperspace tunnel behind a blue and white, ring-less gas giant. He was idling on the verge of dozing off, and started with a grunt at the proximity alarm. He growled and slammed the cloaking controls on, then frantically began scanning the large vessel that was being displayed only a few thousand kilometers in front of his ship, rounding the giant planet. His worry seemed unfounded however, as the alien ship simply continued on its course, without a targeting warning, weapons powerup signal, or giving any indication at all that it had detected him during the brief moments his ship was uncloaked.

"Hah! Fucking humans…,' he laughed out loud to himself and began scanning their vessel, confirming that it had typical human construction characteristics, as well as recognized human writing on the outside.

_So far, not as clever as they say,_ Kal'ak thought, a little disappointed in their lack of reaction and easily identifiable ship. _I suppose that's what you get with a race just now beginning to build ships_.

It seemed that the large ship was just orbiting, and had no devices operating, or traffic flowing to and from it. If it had just gotten here, then their propulsion technology must still be in its infancy. Could it really take them nearly _ten moons_ to reach the nearest star system to their own? Paya, everything Kal'ak had read about humans attested to their ingenuity and cunning, their dishonor, but also their war-like tendencies. He had read nothing to suggest they were so far behind in technology, he had gotten the impression, both from the archives and the recent hot political controversy, that they were practically a _threat_ to his kind. He scoffed at this idea, but wondered if he was being arrogant, and underestimating the humans as some of his kind had done, and paid the price with their lives. He resolved not to make the same mistake, and put himself in a more serious state of mind. Grabbing the controls, he slowly but steadily caught up behind the human ship and analyzed it more closely. It seemed that with a few well-placed shots of plasma, he could practically vaporize the flying fuel pod, but there would be no sport in that. He wanted to hunt the infamous creatures on foot, to which he wondered, where were they going? In a few seconds he got his answer, as they both rounded the gas giant, the human ship showed signs of powering up, and its propulsion kicked on. Kal'ak readied his own weapons just in case, but it seemed the humans were still oblivious to his presence. Instead he looked ahead, and saw where the burning rockets were propelling the human's ship…

A small, blue and green moon sat nestled in between several larger moons, immediately glowing with the possibility of life. Ignoring the human ship, Kal'ak burned ahead, closing the distance to the tiny, temperate world quickly. He began standard orbital scans with his ships computers, and with amazement, discovered it to be teeming with life. Biological matter nearly covered the surface, and the large oceans were no doubt filled with creatures of any number of sizes.

_How_ could the Yautja have missed this discovery?, he thought, not minding one bit that they did. This moon wasn't even on his navigational charts, and it seemed his people had never been able to see it due to the near encapsulation of it from the 13 other moons surrounding it. He also suspected that his people simply discounted this system for life-bearing worlds due to its binary suns, not to mention… another living world so close to Earth, the odds were astronomical. Kal'ak couldn't believe his luck, humans, and a new world all in the same system, it was like winning the clan tournament, but better. Now he just had the easy part, the fun part… the killing.

As he set the ships controls to automatically take him down into the atmosphere, he checked the sensors to see the human ship was still far behind him, without showing any signs of hostility. Kal'ak smiled, mandibles pinching together and curling upwards like a young blood, when the humans got to this new world, he would be there waiting for them. He got up and left the bridge, heading for his quarters to ready his armor and equipment. As his ship lowered itself gently into the atmosphere of the moon, leaving only a shimmer in the air as evidence of its arrival, he tested his blades, charged his energy cells, secured his armor, and finally… donned his mask. His mask, his _face_, the face that struck fear into the primitive warriors of countless worlds, and in this case, hid the foolish grinning of his excitement from his would-be prey.

He would leave nothing behind, he thought, who knows what beasts I could find down there, and what tools I might need to dispatch them. He proceeded to strap on all of his favorite weapons, his new spear, his favorite plasma cannon, several shurikens, the even more deadly smart-disk, and more than a few knives and various blades hidden about his form. He wore a moderate covering of his armor, not every piece, but the important ones. He didn't want to limit his mobility, but knew that there may very well be creatures on this planet that could tear his flesh like paper. Now fully equipped, he activated his armor systems and stalked down the corridors of his ship to the forward deployment bay, below the bridge.

Using his wrist computer and mask, he piloted the ship from there, standing before the sealed airlock, surveying the terrain through his optics and searching for a place to land, or perhaps jump out and leave his ship airborne. Not far to his south-east, there was a high range of mountains, around which there seemed to be an enormous electromagnetic interference that his ship's sensors had to constantly adjust to overcome. To his north, his topography showed a rather large excise of land, like a crater, devoid of the thick forest that covered the rest of the continent. He steered his ship towards there, and veered slightly east to the large river that ran through the landmass. If he was going to find any large beasts, a river was a good place to start.

Silently, his ship slowly descended further and further until it hung just above the canopy of alien jungle, his favorite kind of hunting ground without a doubt. After all, the name his brother had given him meant…

_It didn't matter what it meant_, he thought, _he's dead_. With his ship hovering, invisible above the treetops, Kal'ak reflected for a moment, working hard to make sure his anger didn't get the best of him, and that he was fully alert for this new adventure. He would not let old troubles stain this new chance of glory, and more importantly, fun. The giant tree below him seemed suitable to start in, and he ran one last scan of the forest around his ship, searching for any unfortunate creatures that he might have already stumbled upon. His mask showed only a few small heat signatures that could be nothing more than rodents, and he tapped the control on his wrist computer to open the bay door.

Like a doorway of the gods, from the outside, it appeared that a portal had materialized in the air above the trees. A few bewildered birds looked up and fluttered away in surprise, but save them, nothing saw the masked warrior dive from the disembodied doorway in the sky, down into the trees below. In mid-air, Kal'ak activated his cloak and turned into little more than a shimmer in the sky as he feel. Before he smashed into the potentially deadly web of branches at the top of the tree, the inertial dampeners in his armor slowed his descent and made him weigh a fraction of his actual mass, if only for a moment. Almost all Yautja wore such devices, it was what allowed them to jump impossibly far, fall from unthinkable heights, and kept their relative weight mostly the same on the many worlds of countless different gravitational conditions that they visited. Technically, the dampeners could render a hunter weightless, and allow him to float about on any world, but the energy requirements for them were high, and they were only used at high power for seconds at a time, to facilitate jumping, falling, and landing… silently.

Kal'ak went from rushing through the air to gently touching down on a thick branch near the top of the tree, and quickly scanned his surroundings, cycling through vision modes to search for any abnormal life-forms. He found only the small rodent creatures near the forest floor, far below, and several bird-like animals in the treetops, all of which generated simple thermal energy like most life-forms, and not much else.

_Good_, he thought,_ no strange, alien spectrums on this world. _Paya, how he loved science… not all things were entirely predictable, but most adhered to a few basic principles of the universe. Carbon based life-forms, give off heat, simple and useful. Scolding himself, he checked the air on this world before setting out to hunt, to see if he could survive without his mark. The atmosphere wasn't toxic at least, high in nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon based gases, but fairly low concentrations of helium and krypton, the air his people needed to breath. There were trace amounts, like most worlds with atmospheres, and computer's analysis concluded that he could survive in this air indefinitely, but would be short of breath and notice a significant decrease in stamina.

_I should have checked that on the ship_, he thought, looking around his tree one more time before swinging underneath the branch he had fallen on, and falling down to the next. With practiced agility, he swung down the ladder of branches almost silently, until he reached the lower arms of the tree, near the shorter but still rather tall trees of this interesting new jungle. Finally he jumped beneath the canopy, and rested on a branch in the shade of a thick and humid jungle. Perfect, now if he could only find some worthy beasts to kill…

Kal'ak set out towards the large river as he intended, gliding from tree to tree as an unseen visitor to this new world. He searched the forest for anything large, or armed, but found nothing. At one point he jumped into a tree full of small, six-limbed, glider creatures that scattered upon his impact, despite not being able to see him. His reflexes were sharp, and he managed to snatch one of the leathery monkey-birds by the hind legs, holding it up to his mask and examining its physiology for a few moments, determining if its skull was worth taking. The creature merely shrieked and struggled however, and Kal'ak deemed it entirely unworthy of hunting, and tossed it in the direction of its fleeing pack. Later, he descended to the forest floor and walked to the river, uncloaking and surveying the flowing water for what kind of life it held. Only a few tiny fish were visible, and he knelt down to dip his hand into the stream and feel its cool caress on his claws.

After a couple hours he was a little frustrated, but not entirely angry, as he was still on a hidden world, alone, with his own ship and the possibility of ferocious beasts behind every rock and tree. With a planet this densely forested, with so much water and jungles so large, there almost _had_ to be large prey animals, which meant large predators as well. He resisted the temptation to use his ship to scan the entire continent and show him where the larger beasts were, and decided to make his way towards the large crater his scans had found earlier. He climbed a nearby tall tree, claws and spiked boots gripping onto the bark as he shot up the branches, and looked around to gain his bearings and study the terrain. Any good hunter knows the importance of learning and remembering the layout of the land, and he had been regularly climbing vantage points every few kilometers to check his surroundings.

Just as he reached the top of this tree however, a burst of light and sound caught his attention in the sky. Falling through the clouds, burning bright in uncontrolled atmospheric entry, a ball of fire hurtled towards the surface. He suspected a simple meteor or comet, noting its size wasn't large enough to be dangerous, but saw that it didn't seem to be burning up and getting smaller. Then, a few miles above the jungle, the ball of fire broke apart, not into odd and burning chunks, but perfectly. It split into 25 equal pieces that ejected out in a perfect circle and crashed into the jungle in a miles wide perimeter.

_Not a meteor at all…,_ Kal'ak thought, _humans._

It had to be them, the breakup and descent was mechanical and unnatural, a planned deployment. His excited clicking slowly turned into a menacing purr, and he reactivated his cloak and recorded in his mind the location of the nearest impact. If he couldn't find the native beasts, he could still hunt the other intruders to this world, who were supposedly guaranteed to be worthy prey. He set off as quickly as he could, nearly sprinting through the treetops as fast as the thick branches and hanging vines would allow. He found some vines and would-be obstructions to, in fact, be helpful, allowing him to swing vast distances on strong hanging vines or use the thick foliage to cushion high falls. A few minutes later, he found himself near the forest floor, and noticed how dark it was getting, not only from being so far beneath the canopy, but it seemed night was slowly approaching this world. Once again, he had forgotten an important detail, to check how much light he would have after landing in this particular part of the planet. Perhaps this was a good thing, he thought, so many predators were nocturnal, and maybe with the coming of night so too would the larger and more formidable beasts show themselves. Almost on cue, as he leapt to the next tree, he heard a shrill barking and the scurrying of feet on the forest floor. Swinging himself up on the branch, he perched silently and watched, looking for the source of the sounds. In seconds, not far below him, the orange glow of a slender creature came stalking out of the underbrush. It ran along low-hanging branches, jumping between trees and bushes near the forest floor, seemingly sniffing the air in search of prey. Its behavior looked predatory no doubt, but still the creature was small, long and slender, and didn't look like much of a challenge. Kal'ak waited though, observing for a few moments longer, and then to his surprise another of the creatures followed not far behind the first. Then another emerged from the jungle off to his right, and he realized these creatures hunted in packs.

_Interesting,_ he mused, trilling quietly to see if they noticed, and all 4 of the creatures, that were visible, perked up at his faint clicking, and began sniffing the air and ground only meters below him. It seemed to Kal'ak that it was him they were hunting, and could smell but not see him. How bold, he thought, for an alien beast to hunt a scent it couldn't possibly be familiar with, unless of course his kind just happened to smell like something that lived on this world. He let out a series of clicks again, taunting the pack and seeing if they would show any fear. The hounds, as he named them, merely sniffed and chirped at each other, prowling the ground below him and making occasional barking and almost laughing sounds. One looked right through him, but saw nothing and stalked slowly right below Kal'ak's perch.

He decided to take the opportunity and strike, extending his dual wrist blades in a flash of steel, and jumping straight onto the back of the sniffing hound. With a sickening crunch and a pained squeal from the creature, his weight crushed its back like a twig, and he swung his wrist blades down and decapitated it in an instant. Without pause, he spun and looked at the others, who had all perked up at the sound and now stood, snarling and bewildered at their dead comrade, seemingly crushed and mauled by a being made of hot hair. Kal'ak roared and decloaked, shooting out his other wrist blade and jumping off the carcass of the first hound, towards the other three. They didn't seem to mind that their 'prey' had just materialized out of the air, and slaughtered one of their brothers, and all three leapt at him in earnest, two pairs of front legs on each, reaching out and clawing for his flesh. They seemed rather quick and agile, but for the trained reflexes of a deadly warrior, they were no match. With a side step, Kal'ak raised his right arm and caught one of the leaping hounds on his wrist blades, straight through its torso and out the back. He swung his left arm down as another of the beasts was flying past where he once stood, and in one motion cut its body clean in half, just behind it middle pair of legs. The hound impaled on his right arm thrashed and screeched, not yet dead, but he thrust his arm and retracted his wrist blades, sending it flying into the brush. The third creature, recovering from its missed leap, bounded off the trunk of a nearby tree and latched onto his left leg, its claws digging in and teeth searching for a hold to bite on. Its jaws clacked against his armor, and Kal'ak looked down admirably at the bold, but doomed hunter. He raised his left arm again, the single blade pointed straight down, and dropped his form to one knee while he slammed his fist down into the head of the biting hound. His wrist blade pierced the top of its skull and pinned its head to the forest floor, burying the blade in the dirt. Kal'ak stood back up, retracting his blood-stained weapons back into his gauntlets and admiring the damage he had done. He began to pick up the nearest corpse to toss it into a pile, when a familiar , chirping laugh came howling from the forest around him. He spun around to see the heat signatures of more of the hounds appearing from out of the trees, first two, then four, and more. Their eerie barking laughter echoed through the forest, eyes glowing in the pale semi-darkness of this world's night. They circled slowly, an entire pack of them emerging from the brush, snarling at him with what he thought could only be hatred for his recent crimes.

Kal'ak clicked his mandibles behind his mask, fingers twitching with anticipation. He reached one hand behind his back, wrapping his claws around the handle of his spear, and growling out a taunt to the circling pack.

"Come on in you fuckers, come on in… _this_ should be fun."

* * *

Neytiri had finally reached the base of the eastern mountains, after nearly three days of walking, and sometimes running, through the deepest parts of the forest. She had never been this far into her jungle, and few Omaticaya ever had. These parts of the forest were old, very old, and felt unnervingly unfamiliar, despite nothing really different. The trees were taller, the air seemed darker, and in three days she hadn't seen much of anything moving. On the first day she had just barely managed to avoid becoming the snack of a truly enormous thanator, larger than any she had ever seen, but since then she hadn't seen a single living creature. But as the ground began to slope, and the terrain got more difficult, Neytiri paused to wonder where to go next. The mountains were a big area, and her cave could be anywhere. She ran up a nearby slope and found the largest tree she could see around her, and climbed as fast as she could to the very top. Teetering out on swaying branches above the canopy, Neytiri looked up the sides of the looming mountains and searched, for what, she didn't know. A clue, a sign?

She wished Jake were here with her, even though she knew he couldn't come. If he were here, he would know what to do, she thought. Well maybe not know, but he would just pick a direction and go. She always tended to overthink things, where Jake could just act, and make things up as they go, he was always good at that. He had an instinct for everything, and that's what made them such a good team, together. But out here, alone, Neytiri worried that she could climb for days and not find the cave from her dream… if it was even real.

_What am I doing?_, she scolded herself, admitting her doubts for the first time. She had felt them before, but pretended they weren't there, but now, at the foot of the mountains she allowed herself to think that maybe her dream was just that, a dream. What if there was no cave, no prophecy, and no evil threatening her home?

No. No, she thought back on that morning and remembered what she felt. She _knew_ she had to do this, she was the Tsahìk and Eywa had shown her that dream for a reason. She could not give up now.

Peering up the mountainside, she searched again for some kind of sign for where to go. _What would Jake do?_, she thought. As she tried to put herself in the frame of mind of her impulsive husband, she noticed a plateau, far up the side of the nearest peak, just below the rocky crest where the jungle stopped. _There!,_ she thought, it had to be there. She nearly jumped from the high tree she sat in, falling from branch to branch until she could reach the ground. When her feet touched dirt she bound up the mountain as fast as she could in the direction of the clearing she had seen. She soon found that trying to run the whole way would quickly become useless, and slowed her pace to a steady climb, using small trees and roots to climb the ever increasingly steep slope. The climb was arduous, and after hours she wondered if she would ever reach the top. She had to pause regularly to drink from her skin water bag, and now it was pouring out in only drops. She grimaced at the empty skin and slung it over her shoulder, and found no mountain streams or springs in sight.

The terrain was becoming more and more rocky with each step, but a thick patch of jungle above her seemed like the right destination, if for nothing else but a chance to fill her canteen. As she neared the mountain oasis, the ground turned to giant outcroppings and slabs of stone, interspersed with thick brush growing in pools of soil. She had to climb some of the larger trees to reach the next levels of rock, and she found herself tiring quickly. Hope was quickly fading but habit kept her moving, when finally she pulled herself over the edge of a massive stone slab and found herself in a wide clearing atop the flat boulder. She was on a plateau of moss and dirt covered rock, it _must_ be the one she saw from the tree below, and she rested gratefully for a moment on hands and knees, panting heavily and trying to catch her breath.

She had all but forgotten what she hoped to find in this clearing, and as she looked up, she gasped in shock at the familiarity of the scene before her. She sat back on her legs, folded beneath her, and stared disbelievingly at the black gash in the mountain before her. She feared she was asleep, or had passed out, and entered her dream all over again, the cave before her was exactly as she dreamt it. Covered in jungle growing out around its rocks, and a thin fog filling the entire clearing, Neytiri could only kneel before the mouth of the cave in wonder. After a few still moments, she started nervously and stood up and spun around, looking out over the land, fearing fire would be spreading across her home. But only green and misty forest looked back at her, the calls of birds from far below echoing up the mountains. Assured she wasn't dreaming again, Neytiri turned back to the cave and slowly made her way across the clearing towards the entrance. As she moved, the sun seemed to fall just enough in the sky that it shone on the side of the mountain perfectly and lit the inside of the cave. A gentle stream of water flowed over the edge of the top slab of rock and fell over the mouth of the cave in a crystal clear waterfall, and Neytiri ran to it, standing underneath and washing the day's journey off her, holding open her mouth and drinking the immaculate mountain water.

She smiled and looked out in the clearing again, and at the view of her home, and realized how beautiful this place really was. Now able to appreciate it without the horror of her dream, she wanted to bring Jake and Niyani here, and even now she didn't want to leave. She held out her water bag and filled it in the falling stream, then looked down into the dimly lit cave, the ceiling dripping with the remnants of the water that hugged the rock over the edge, and sunlight rippling off the marbled rocks.

She made her way slowly down the slope of the cave floor, searching every inch of the walls for the carvings she had dreamt of. It got darker as she moved in, and she found herself wishing she had made a foolish fire-stick like her Jake had that night they met. In the fading light she worried she wouldn't be able to find the carvings, but reached into her bag and pulled out the rolled leather hide and charcoal writing stick that Jake had made for her. If she could find the prophecy, and record the symbols, perhaps Y'ansi could make more sense of them. He was one of the oldest of the Omaticaya, a revered shaman, and knew many of the ancient legends and symbols of the old forest people.

Frustrated at the bare and empty stone walls, Neytiri stepped into a puddle of water on the cave floor and cursed as the cold splashed up her leg. As the stepped out of the water though, she saw a shimmering reflection upon the walls, deeper in the cave. The last of the sunlight was bouncing off the water and shining on the dark wall meters in front of her. As the water steadied, she ran down the gradual slope to the place where its light reflected off the wet rock, and watched as the sunlight focused slowly on the same ancient carvings that her fingers had touched in her dream. She pressed her hands to them and traced the carved stone to be sure they were real, and read the words over and over again.

The prophecy was real, she could hardly believe it, even though she had been so sure it would be. Shaking with a mixture of fear and anxiety, Neytiri tried to calm herself and remember why she had come here. She rolled out the dried leather hide and began to copy the inscriptions on the wall with the sharpened stick of charcoal that Jake showed her how to write with. As she wrote, she tried to think of what to do next. If evil truly was coming, some spirit was supposed to help her. Where she could find it though, she had no idea. She would take the words to Y'ansi and ask for his guidance, then to go the tree of souls and ask Eywa for the same. She had no idea how long she had, but if the black fire was truly as terrifying as it was in her dream, she needed answers fast.

As she finished scribbling the last characters down on the soft hide, she realized how deep she was in the cave, and how dark it had become around her. Remembering her dream, Neytiri caught her breath in her throat and felt the same fear that had gripped her in her sleep. She slowly, and shakily, began to creep back up the smooth cave floor towards the sunlight, straining her eyes into the deep darkness and looking for what she hoped wouldn't be there. There were no monsters in this cave, she thought, _that_ was just part of the dream. Right?

Droplets of water fell from the ceiling and resounded like the sky people's fire weapons, her own breath seemed to deafen her senses, and she finally felt the need to get out of there. She turned and ran, calmly but quickly, up the rocky slope and towards the bright light of the sky. In seconds she was outside again, on the plateau and looking out at the beautiful view that was her home. She breathed a sigh of relief and laughed at herself as she looked back into the cave. Who was acting like a child now? Running from phantom cave monsters spawned in her dreams? She would have to remember _not_ to tell Jake about this, but then… she knew she would. She loved him too much to keep her feelings from him, even her fears and doubts, she shared them all.

Dusk was approaching, though the sun still shone bright on the green canopy of the jungle below her, the fog around the cave and the plateau was thickening. Perhaps she should rest here for the night, she thought. There was water, high ground, a great view of the stars… though anxious to get home, see Jake, her daughter, and try to decipher the meaning of this strange prophecy, she felt that staying on the mountain for the night would be best. She could start for home in the early morning…

But just as she was about to sit down on the thick mossy bed at the edge of the rocks, a flash and thunder in the sky made her eyes shoot to the clouds. A bright falling star burned across the sky for a few moments, and Neytiri couldn't help but wonder if this was some sign, or perhaps… was it the great spirit, coming from the sky as the cave foretold? As she watched it fall though, waiting to see where it would land, the star burst into pieces that hurled themselves away from each other, falling to the ground in a wide circle. The many star pieces all landed far from the village, but from what she could see, it was in the forest around the old hometree, and the sky people's abandoned village.

_That was no falling star,_ she thought, and no great spirit either, she doubted. Both fear, and urgency filled her mind, and looked down off the edge of the mountain with a longing need to get home, soon. She could not stay the night, not now. Something had come from the sky, and all she could think of was darkness.

* * *

Kal'ak stalked through the jungle towards his goal as quietly as he could, but with a little less grace than usual due to soreness from his minor wounds. The skulls of the most memorable kills from his fight with the hounds hung from his belt, and their bodies hung from the trees back at the scene. The pack proved to be larger than Kal'ak had thought, and he killed ten or more before the rest scattered, apparently intelligent enough to learn when they were outmatched. Kal'ak grinned behind his mask, ignoring the sting of the cuts and bites that the vicious creatures had dealt him.

_A fine battle,_ he thought, to escape without any wounds only meant your opponent wasn't challenging enough. Now he would finally get to put practical use to his ship's advanced medbay, but the med-pack he carried with him had sufficed for now. After cleaning and stitching or cauterizing the worst of his wounds, Kal'ak was now continuing on towards the sight of the nearest impact, of whatever had fallen from the sky earlier. This world's cool and well-lit night surrounded him, and in fact served to enhance his vision, diminishing the amount of false heat signatures given off by sun-warmed plants or rocks. Not much moved around him in the jungle now, and the small creatures he did see in the branches or on the forest floor all scattered and ran from him as he approached. He really should be using the trees, he thought, on an alien world, at night, it was not smart to travel on foot when one had no idea what kinds of predators might lie in wait, on or under the ground.

He gave himself one small shot of pain killer which he had been saving for when he got close, and jumped into the trees again. He was getting close now, and regardless of hidden predators, he wanted to approach the crash, or landing, site from the treetops.

After a few minutes of leaping branches, Kal'ak could see some kind of smoke or dust cloud rising from the canopy up ahead, and picked up his pace as he raced through the trees towards the presumably human _object_. With a few super-jumps, that sent him sailing up over the treetops and back down again gently, Kal'ak was only meters away from a small clearing where he could see the bright heat signatures of several small fires, and a large, definitely unnatural, object half buried in the dirt. He made his way to a tree on the edge of the clearing and carefully surveyed what he saw. There in the ground was a large, metallic… chunk, that was obviously the object that fell from the sky, and here slammed into the ground and skidded only a short distance, leaving a gash in the land behind it. The object was curious in its design, but he could at least be certain it was human. It didn't seem ship-shaped, but rather like a giant container, perhaps a cargo drop. Most oddly of all, it had large openings on it's top, that appeared as if they were once sealed by hatches that had now slid open. Kal'ak scanned the object more intensely with enhanced infrared which allowed him to effectively peer inside the object, and was surprised to see that precisely 20 humans stood against the walls in individual pods of some sort.

_Interesting…_ he clicked to himself and thought for a moment, before deciding there couldn't be much harm to it, and leaping out of his tree and onto the ground next to the container with an almost silent thud. He walked around the object, examining its construction, primitive yet solid. However not _that_ solid, he thought as he came to the head of the object that must have struck the ground first. One of the forward corners was slightly damaged, having struck a nearby rock during the crash landing. Kal'ak let his curiosity get the best of him, and hopped effortlessly onto the top of the structure and peered down into the open hatches. The humans, ten on each side, were contained in individual pods as he suspected, with transparent viewing glass around their upper halves. All of them, however, seemed to be completely unconscious. His only indication that they were still alive was the faint heat signature emanating from each one.

Now, almost frustrated with curiosity, Kal'ak switched his vision mode to visible light and jumped down into the vessel, and what he now saw, outside of the thermal spectrum, caused him to immediately deploy his wrist blades and power up his plasma cannon. To his shock, in front of each human, inside their pods, was a hard-meat egg, still pulsing with life and glistening with its slime secretions.

_Elders FUCK me… _he thought, truly astounded and a little unsure of what to do next. The _humans_ were seeding worlds with kainde amedha? This was unfathomable… preposterous! _How_ could his people allow the Earthlings to advance this far, and do _this_ of all things. This was exactly the type of event that would end the argument over the fate of Earth. When the council finds out about this, the humans will be crushed absolutely, possibly destroyed altogether if enough zealous support can convince the council that they are too great a threat to allow to exist. Paya, few races have ever created weapons as deadly as the hard-meat, and those that encountered the dreaded scourge knew well enough not to meddle with the black creatures.

But humans… _using_ the hard-meat, sending them to life-bearing worlds… and using their _own kind_ as hosts?

Kal'ak had to stop himself from spitting inside his own mask at the dishonor of it all.

Speaking of the hosts, Kal'ak had almost forgot about the twenty doomed humans he stood in the midst of, all sleeping peacefully, unaware of their impending fate. As Kal'ak looked through the glass, from face to face, he almost felt pity for them. He noticed several that he recognized as females from his studies of the species, but these didn't resemble the beauty of the golden-silked pet he had seen in the citadel. As he scanned the faces, unsure why he didn't just leave and drop a remote mine in his place to destroy the whole container, a faint hissing sound caught his attention near the other end of the vessel. He stalked over in the low light and found that the final human container on the end was slightly damaged like the outside of the ship, just a few small cracks in the glass, but enough to slowly release whatever gasses were contained by the pod. Inside, however, was a tiny creature that immediately captured Kal'ak's attention. It was a human female, young, or small, maybe both, who's head silk was shining black, unlike the golden yellow of the one on the homeworld, but equally as beautiful, if not more so.

_A shame,_ he thought, _that it must die by my weapons or by the kainde kmedha _spawn. He wasn't sure why he felt so attracted to these human females, but their beauty was otherworldly, literally, and he couldn't help but want to touch this one, just as he had wanted to touch the one in the citadel. And he could only imagine how they _tasted_…

_It's probably dead already though, since this one's pod is leaking air…_ he reasoned to himself and was about to resign the pretty little human to its fate, but then it stirred beneath the glass, only slightly at first, before its mouth opened and it gasped in a breath of air, then began to slowly lift and turn its head. It was alive… and unlike the others, it was waking…

* * *

Lia began to wake, slowly, to the sound of a quiet hissing, and her own gasping for breath. She had been having a dream, a terrible dream about drowning, but for some reason, unlike most nightmares, she wasn't able to wake all at once. The fog of sleep was slowly lifting, she began to regain feeling in her body, and became aware of her real-life shortness of breath. She gasped again, and opened her eyes slowly, but as she tried to reach for her eyes to rub the thick blurriness from them, she found her hands were trapped at her sides, bound by something around her wrists. She could barely see, except to know that she was inside a small enclosure, with a glass dome around her head. She realized she wasn't laying down, but standing rather, or sort of leaning, inside the enclosure. She turned her head painfully from side to side, and gasped again for breath. Why couldn't she breathe? _Where am I?_ she thought, as panic began to take hold.

_God, what was going on?_ Too much to process, she couldn't think… she tried; the last thing she remembered was…

_Fuck! Please… help. Someone. Why can't I move?_

Lia struggled weakly in her half asleep state, but was able to do little more than thrash her head about and wiggle her fingers and toes. As she tried to remember where she was and what had happened to her, more gasping sobs racked her body, and she wasn't sure if it was her own panic or if there truly was a lack of oxygen in… wherever she was. Her eyes focused a bit more and she tried to take in her surroundings, but couldn't see anything but dark blur outside the glass that surrounded her head. Instead she tried to look down at her body to see what was binding her, stopping her from moving. Instantly, she almost wished she hadn't…

In front of her, at about waist height, was something Lia had never seen before, but was immediately terrified of. A large, brown, slimy sack sat inches from her body, inside the same tube-like prison that she now desperately needed escape from. In her semi-conscious state, she barely looked at the slimy capsule before bursting into tears and gut wrenching sobs.

_PLEASE! Help me! _She tried to call out loud but her gasps overtook her voice and the words echoed silently in her mind.

_What is this? Someone… please…_

She tried to look around, above her, outside the glass… for something, anything. But she could still barely see, and could make out nothing but darkness outside her soon-to-be tomb. With a few weak sobs, Lia resigned herself to look down at the sickening egg sac object locked in here with her, and felt even more light-headed than before. Something was wrong with her, she still couldn't breathe. The air felt thinner and thinner, and her vision began to darken. In total despair, her head slumped down as she lost the strength to hold it up, and she squinted and tried to keep from looking at the horrible slime-covered flaps on top of the sac. Before darkness set it, however, a sick suctioning sound came from the egg-thing, and the four flaps on its top peeled open to reveal an even more disgusting interior. Lia just barely saw a snake-like tail, or tentacle, wrap around the horrible pulsating embryo inside, and her gasping sobs renewed with full vigor.

"Pleeeeassse…please…," she managed to sqeak out a pathetic cry to no one at all, though in her mind she was screaming for this nightmare to not be true. It was all too real however, and her eyes widened in pure terror as she watched a collection of almost human-like, elongated fingers, claw slowly up out of the sac.

"No…," was all she could whisper, and tears poured in a river down her face, as she could only imagine what this thing would do to her. Her imagination didn't need to be that good, as any person could guess that they would die a horrible and painful death if faced with something like this. Lia cried for someone, God perhaps, since she had no one back home, but never believed that anyone would hear.

Before she could go mad with terror, however, and faster than she could realize what was happening, she saw two green eyes flash behind the glass, staring right through at her. Then the glass surrounding her smashed inward and peppered her face with shards, and a clawed hand appeared before her, grasping the disgusting, inhuman, slime-spider that had only just jumped from its egg sac. Lia watched the terrifying finger-thing thrash and squirm in the clenched fist of some green-skinned angel, before the hand seemed to squeeze and crunch the spider to death, before tearing it out of the pod and disappearing into the darkness outside. She continued to struggle for air, fearing this was still the end, despite being saved from the monster in the egg. But then, the hand reappeared, stretching from that glorious, green and brown arm, and grasped the front of her enclosure, and tore off the entire top half of the pod. She was still bound, strapped to the wall behind her, and could only whimper in attempt to beg the owner of the clawed, green hand to release her before she suffocated…

* * *

Kal'ak watched, captivated, as the human in the pod slowly awoke, or half-awoke, and began blearily understanding its situation. It first realized that it was immobilized, and seemed to struggle futily before becoming very upset. It was obviously having trouble breathing, most likely from the leaking cracks in the pod, and didn't seem to see him, or anything else really, beyond the glass barrier. Kal'ak thought about helping it, but deduced that smashing the glass would only hasten its death by suffocation… though that was decidedly better than death by impregnation from the kainde amedha spawn. Kal'ak simply continued to think, and continued to watch, as the human finally noticed the throbbing egg before it, and looked sufficiently repulsed and terrified. Whether it had ever seen one, or knew what it was, was unclear, as most creatures reacted similarly to the hard-meat, if they were familiar with them or not. The human struggled harder, and made many, truly pathetic, but also saddening noises from its opening and closing mouth. It also leaked an abnormal amount of liquid from its eyes, which poured down its face in streams. But Kal'ak noticed the liquid didn't appear unpleasant, slimy and thick, like so many creature's secretions, but rather like rain, clear and pure, seemingly only water. These humans were so strange, Kal'ak thought, odd features, who _knows_ what kind of unpredictable behavior… yet, he wanted one. He wanted _this_ one.

Almost lost in his idle staring at the distraught human, Kal'ak barely noticed the hard-meat egg had also woken, and was now opening up and preparing to ensnare the very human he had already laid claim to. Snapping to his senses, he slammed his fist through the glass shield and managed to snatch the hard-meat larva in his claws, just as it leapt out of its egg at the helpless human's face. For a moment, he considered the possibility of acid burning off his entire hand, but crushed it in his hand anyway, trying his best not to puncture the skin with his claws or allow any of the caustic blood to leak out onto his skin. Satisfied that the larva was dead, or at least immobilized, he tore his hand out of the hole he had created, and tossed the twitching, foul arachnid onto the floor behind him.

Inside the capsule, the small human now seemed frozen in surprise, staring wide eyed at the hole his fist had created, and breathing even more labored than before. Relief seemed to cross its face for just a moment, before it began to gasp for air again and panic set in once more. Its big, round, _beautiful_ eyes stayed fixed on his own as he stared right through the broken glass, trying to think of how to free his human from this capsule.

_His_ human?

Yes, that's right, _his _human…he admitted. If it was going to die, it would die by his hand, later, if he decided to eat it.

Seeing no other option, Kal'ak went with brute force, and grasped the front of the capsule at the bottom of the glass window, where the metal construction began. From what he could tell, it appeared to be a separate piece from the wall behind it, and should come off with enough force. Kal'ak raised one foot to the wall and ripped the front half of the pod right off, clicking in surprise at how much easier it was than he expected. His human still lay bound to the inside of its pod, by some thick black straps of material around its wrists, waist, and chest. Two at a time, Kal'ak wrapped his claws underneath the rubbery straps and tore them off, each one snapping loudly as it broke. When he removed the last one, the human slumped forward and nearly fell to the floor, but Kal'ak caught its tiny form and it leaned against his chest, weakly trying to wrap its arms around him. He looked down and saw that the human's feet were still bound inside the lower half of the capsule, with the same kind of straps around its ankles. This part, however, could not be torn off, as it was a solid piece of the floor, and Kal'ak couldn't reach his hand down in to tear off the straps. So, with one arm wrapped around the human, he deployed his spear and carefully guided it down into the capsule, next to the human's legs. With two quick cuts, the human's feet were free, and Kal'ak lifted it out of the pod, held it gently against his chest, and looked up at the open hatches of the container, judging how best to take his prize out. A careful jump would have to work, so, clutching the human against him, he crouched down and sprang out of the module, straight out the opening in the top. He landed, handsfree, on both feet on top of the container, and smugly praised himself for his own balance and agility. The human, pressed against his chest, however, did not look impressed, and he almost felt angry at it for a moment, before remembering that it was probably suffocating to death.

_Shit,_ he thought, _what do I do now?_

Kal'ak hopped down onto the ground, bent to one knee and laid the human down on its back, trying not to let his curiosity run wild just yet, so his prize didn't die while he was busy touching and examining its tiny body. The poor creature just laid there, one arm across its chest and the other splayed limply across the ground. Its chest heaved with pained gasps for breath that it clearly wasn't finding, but its big, wet eyes stared up at him with pleading desperation for help. Which each passing second, its eyes glazed over more heavily and seemed to lose focus, and Kal'ak hurriedly accessed his wrist computer for information on human physiology. Displays came up in his mask and he quickly searched for human breathing requirements, it took a few moments, and Kal'ak found himself genuinely rushing with worry.

_Why?_ It wasn't _his_ life that was in danger. But he admittedly did hope his human would live… _No need to get all distressed about it though_, he thought.

Finally he found the statistics for human air, and saw that they required the double-oxide gas for their breathing. His armor could synthesize it easily enough, but how could he give it to the human? He thought for a few moments, while the human still lay motionless on the ground, then he considered an idea. Could it be just as simple as…?

_Pop_, _hssssssss._

Air escaped the detached mask tube in a slow hiss, and Kal'ak knelt down over the human while he tapped the commands into his wrist computer. The gas escaping from the tube soon changed to pure dioxide, spraying out in a continuous, gentle haze. Kal'ak straddled the human's body and leaned his face down to just inches from the human's. Supporting himself on one elbow, he used his other hand to aim the hose at the human's mouth, spraying the, hopefully correct, air at its face.

On contact, the human's nostrils flared, and its mouth gaped wide open as it seemed to react to the air. It gasped for the steady stream of oxygen, and after a few ragged breaths, seemed to try weakly lifting its head towards the tube, trying to get more of the precious gas. So he was right! He slide his hand gently behind the human's head, and helped to lift it up slightly, while lowering his face down and guiding the hose closer to its mouth. The human didn't stop there, however, and curled itself upwards, stretching higher until its strange looking, soft, pink mouth wrapped around the hose completely and it began to breathe deeply with relief. Kal'ak smiled behind his mask, quite proud of himself for both heroically and ingeniously saving the life of this human, a task he never thought he would find himself doing. He rarely _saved_ lives, more often taking them, and from all his studies on humans, his recurring hopes were to slaughter their warriors and mount their skulls on his wall. Yet here he was, laying prostrate on top of one of them, with its mouth attached to a piece of his armor no less…

_Shit,_ he thought to himself, now realizing the absurdity of his situation. _Good Paya, if Ma'koh saw this…_ _so now what?_

He looked down at the human, who he could see was now fearfully examining his form, with its hands around the breathing hose, but its eyes now scanning Kal'ak up and down, wide with either fear or shock. He could guess that it was fighting the urge to try to escape and run from him, now that it realized he was not one of its own kind, but also knew that it wanted to stay attached to the hose that was giving it life. Its breathing was still deep and heavy, and Kal'ak in turn looked up and down the human's body, taking special interest in the round globes of flesh that adorned its chest. They seemed compressed slightly, by the tight, white, elastic clothing that hugged the human's entire body, but the tops of each soft mound were squeezing out the top, and he caught himself staring longingly at them for several moments. With each breath, the human's chest rose and fell, those soft pillows pulsing just beneath his chest, almost touching him as they rose. To Kal, they looked absolutely delectable, and he had the urge to tear off his mask and sink his teeth into them. Almost immediately, however, he scolded himself for the thought, and realized he was already quite opposed to eating his new human. She did look delicious though, so that debate would have to continue later.

In answer to his earlier question of 'now what?', Kal'ak awkwardly reached over to his wrist computer and called his ship, which arrived above them moments later. Thinking ahead, Kal'ak remotely set the ship's internal atmosphere to provide a level of oxygen that matched Earth's air, according to the archives. The ship then slowly descended until it hovered, cloaked, right above them, and Kal'ak stood up, carefully picking up his human so as not to disconnect it from his air hose, and held it in his arms as the ship activated the transporter and rematerialized them inside the cargo hold.

Kal'ak tried to set the human down on its feet as he removed it from his arms and his air hose, but instead it crumpled to the floor in a heap of white unitard and shining, black head silk. It seemed to panic for just an instant, reaching back up to his mask, before realizing it could breathe here, and then cowered away from him instead. Kal'ak just stood and studied it for several moments, as the human caught its breath, looked around with wide, scared eyes, and then started to skirt across the floor towards the nearest wall. It reached the wall and, there, curled its legs and arms around itself, and peaked out at him with those eyes, still streaming water, and whimpering throughout the whole ordeal.

Kal'ak sighed in both some pity, and some frustration and disdain. As cute, or… _whatever_, these human females could be, they were almost infuriatingly pathetic and helpless, absolutely nothing like the cunning, dangerous, and crafty opponents that the archives told of. Perhaps only the males were such warriors, and these females were… no, it couldn't be that _all_ human females were this weak and terrified. A species such as that couldn't _possibly_ survive, this one must have been bred in captivity, or have some sort of mental deficiency, to be so helpless and lack any semblance of fighting instinct.

_Great_, he thought, _I got a sick one._

He stalked over to the human, preparing to pick it up and take it to the cages, but as he got close and reached his arm out to grab it, it squealed bloody murder and shot out from the wall, scurrying away from him and then over to another alcove in the cargo hold walls. Kal'ak growled in frustration and followed it to the new hiding place, and this time snatched its ankle quickly, sliding it out onto the floor below him, and then quickly grabbing its slender neck, wrapping his claws around it like a vice. His captive screeched and squealed like never before, and kicked and struggled, squirming with surprising yet still pathetic strength. Kal'ak held it by the throat in front of him, and it quickly tired, as well as once again began gasping for breath from the tight grip he had on its neck. Its hands wrapped around his gauntlet and tried to pull itself up, taking the weight off its neck, and its legs stopped trying to kick him, but instead swung back and forth, looking to find footing against his body. The human's soft, padded feet pressing against his stomach felt amusing, but he quickly threw it over his shoulder with a few more squirms and squeals of protest, to which he paid no heed.

He casually carried the whining creature across the cargo bay to a nearby hatch, inside which was the hold filled with empty cages. As he walked, he gripped both the human's ankles with one clawed fist, with his other hand pressing its hind quarters onto his shoulder to keep it in place. He found himself quite pleased with the soft flesh in his hand, and decided that if he did keep the human, rather than eat it, it would make an excellent pet… if he could train it to behave that is.

Walking over to an aptly sized cage, he opened it with a swipe of his hand, and then gently lowered the human down into the cage, holding it under the arms. He almost laughed at the expression on its face as he placed it inside. It hung limply from his hands, staring at him with wide, sad eyes that made him not want to leave it here, but he had things to do and couldn't be bothered with watching a wild alien at his side. The human's eyes never left his as he shut the top of the cage and locked it securely. It gave one last long whine of objection, and scurried to the front of the cage, gripping the bars and looking staring around the room. Kal'ak knelt down in front of the cage, causing his human to recoil back into the center in fear. He chuckled a little, then clicked and growled something he assumed it couldn't even begin to understand.

"I will find out what you eat, and bring you food soon enough little human. We shall see if you're as pleasing as you look."

With that, Kal'ak turned and left without looking back, but could hear the whimpers of his new pet fade as he made his way to the bridge. Pleased with himself, Kal'ak remembered one last thing he wanted to do before flying his ship to a secure landing zone and getting back to serious matters. On the bridge, he fired up the engines and ascended a few hundred meters above the human container where he acquired his new pet, then powered up the weapons and targeted the hard-meat dispenser with charged plasma bombs. Ecstatic at finding a reason to use his ship's weaponry, Kal'ak excitedly pressed the fire command and watched the ground below him ignite in a blue and white eruption. When the fire died down, he surveyed the area, and, satisfied that all was vaporized, took the controls of the ship and flew high into the atmosphere to search for a suitable site to land and make camp.

* * *

**A/N:**

**No smut yet, as predicted, but lots of setup for it =) I did my best to create a unique Predator-meets-girl idea, that strays from the multitude of that type of story, but of course its not entirely different. She's still a cute human girl, scared, and gonna get fuckkked ;) I hope that's not a spoiler for any of you, but if you didn't already know this is that type of story, now ya do!  
**

**I hope this satisfies all the subscribers, and gains a few new ones. I know it's long, but I'm trying to make it worth while, for serious fandom readers. I just can't seem to write a chapter that's under 10,000 words =\ It's a curse, I know.  
**


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